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LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 


PRINCETON. N. J. 


PURCHASED BY THE 
MRS. ROBERT LENOX KENNEDY CHURCH HISTORY FUND. 


BV 2766 .P6 R85 1926 
Rule, Lucien V., 1871-1948. 


The light bearers 


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REVEREND JOHN RULE 
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Home Mission Heroes 


of Presbyterian History 


Centennial Story of an 
Old Country Church and Neighborhood 
in the Presbytery of Louisville 


by ie 


EBUGIEN VY. ROUEE 


With a Foreword by Rev. Charles R. Hemphill, D. D. 


BO>SHEN PRESBYTERIAN ‘CHURCH 


Founded 1825 | 
| 
Dedicated and Given to God | 


Rich and Poor of All Denominations are Welcome 


and are Urged to Worship in this Church 





Agta) (eye 
BRANDT- CONNORS & FOWLER 
POUISVIE EEK 
1926 





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VT eLUCLENRY (RULE Ee 





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Dediention 


C[o the endurin} memory of Rev. Edward O. 

Guerrant, D. D., and to my father, Rev. 
John Rule, colle}e mates at “Old Centre’ and 
Heroes of the Home Mission Movement of Louis- 
ville Presbytery and the Synod of Kentucky in 
their time. 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2022 with funding from 
Princeton Theological Seminary Library 


httos://archive.org/details/lightbearershomeOOrule 0 


VIIlI. 


1B & 


XI. 
XII. 


XITI. 
XIV. 
Vi. 
XVI. 
XVII. 


Exe VELL 


XIX. 


Chapter Contents and Subject Index 


Page 

TAGE EVV OLR: Dak ot enter ak NT A ar On rem iee O MUe  e 
THE UPPER RIVER ROAD IN SONG AND STORY......~. I 
Gils ke eB RM ancaieeinic = de WeRbiCler A aetcyaececrccs oko aie Slee ioee are & Bron crdie mac I 
Keukyik en dal aS Cations. cere etns cher cen or cioatie tkatodn aks ce rho ata ter a e II 
RiCaelcirSta HOLL INCALT GOS Cligptrireti occa cies ce ticter sie eee IHL 
Shrader-Taylor ELOMES COAG sere eee Eee ete ehets 1g 
Old Crengders mole we Wee HON lance arenciems, ceretensne er ce relent erate III 
TiN DECCAN OC MR ELEY Olas chet cee come cat or castes rant bad ha iens woactone, Guo ehicietiomers IV 
OldgeVacrudersb.ellen appa tlO lm Crp sneer site erenche en iene racetstn tae V 
EGR CY ITOU SME OTUC seit etek tens esac Mote Recch tefal sueltue ta ietone eietshede is tere aval 
ACE A Gl Via SCOT CS rernert oe crete seers o ahet ce ater ata eee eaepa ae dedetieh tenes VII 
MAME | TE eMetIh” AER OUR HRS Fe Oe oat karin io Hic cuciey auaed corte oni ah 
esickevaay. ABU VO OGRER ONS, cls cy Ler olor a oS Deo e. oer eee as le heen OME 6 
RA Cy Ord Came RE at) OLD ALO Uieras gge steered ascenefere wise giatty ave eae) tole c end iane ie aha 8 
Gigeonm > lLackeDllnnena DOs tA Mr Ciws a ick SO. Minis eicstel sielererete. cuelsi eens ibat 
AMnyenbe “Wikerstes! ADE) —IWopllohwa > “AMaWeiaal. Aone sco oo oo tOm Gace 13 
AX, (DYNAM SN DIES" COR URIS MDE OV AME 8s os eat a piece Oi OLRed B miko Bini 18 
NG Gio Sa) Oh ike akemaguter ” Ae Wena ater 5. lanuoomeccrd coruc cate One fy Oe Caren Oreo 19 
Ane OLE LEStanren teal. Diemer scare reer cerca eer aiev ete 20 
WM TENVETTUA ee CAN OO Spsperetel seencies tie ane eWeben et cite) teemeter airerer cic lotel oy eke cn's 22 
Elemental FUGLIZ LOM Rese asthe cheep a roteieke eestor tas: eee aes a suerele Stet 23 
TE NNCMES OLUEA TY ae LOC ig weet vce ech ten ee an eee eke Meee s, See etwas ences Re 25 
WUEStWardenineeth Gms (tles abst er. ctas bec chitie a terencisteceie custorerera te 29 
AMayey (ORNDD Gye? ORM oc ole « FESS iglita Wnts 2S Ss OR REELS fo SER gros DOC OL ENE IE 34 
Femme Vial tL Cae O Lat Hilt] a Losebem ns icirc ena steers Creer meee a rant Pavers & 39 
OLD TIME KENTUCKIANS OF ARR MEN Toker teen eters 46 
Teme GrCsSm all Oreth Cm FOSCpeaetr a trel. airsbstyeie arte ory ototamenas ca near cho ors 50 
AED AUS Ceres Off IM USIC metderser sins o eieksuclcee cy atovsl epee cee es tw atledeysreterens 54 
Me DCAtoMULCMEUOUCALOL Stern erecta occa eh dnrehere ite 57 
WED SCC Tar G COREL Crees cic ketrtes err A ae NS erent EID age rccek 8 oe ae 60 
ue. Sunday, School#and= thes Dave SCHOOL... ccc ois c.chelslas so acto 63 

STORY AND RESTORATION OF AN OLD COUNTRY 

Graves of Forgotten Heroes........... Apacer te ecko Ara ateter see 69 
mndrew: oLcLecles- Olds lldermand. Bbloneer- = sro: sia come, 69 
WALLY er SIN SINS es LOACKELS peers eran eto ere ee Sh ar nee chemo cine ete 70 
Wil Cie er esbiy-Ler yar eter ait G OSGi acne eee me reat ae qh 
LhemOld. Sacramental Meatineisermris srs clere telecine ete 72 
Bere WiLlsonde DUCTSON sees ieee Se eee {4 
inxenentenavoxe: (ope DDO AnhOll fuel WWieheaey Sheabhey Ao Ao4gaGonoe bbe 73 
Prasicg Death of «Mary .bucy. Diuerson gia... 2 «toe oe sue 73 
ite VC MOryw Ot ©5152 Oya OUMbIL grew er cette eile ee etek eee 74 
Ablave) WAN eiginie Kebbel) Woe CONsksiek- “AbibaaKeh obo Caksoueunoooo aes dace 75 
Saleh WR ane UNL. MUon waka yok, Sukonre ak TOMS Aye, Bh halle yr bac hee Ot i ee SR Ube 15 
OCOlGPRecordweote Ls dersmande Deacons winter neta 76 
ieee eSLOrAtlonme MlOve Meta ie stom cieeis itercie em raisin arene 78 
ET Cw cs COV MO Le DOIN 1 Lem Gail Sa eeee, Pen ae ere a ene, eee 80 
Olde Timesehwin era lisa: a6. wee nee PEL Ta oo Or an ee 8&1 
PH Ge OLLOM Bali Te a0 Eel L CLIT a eros ate oie Wie ok cee nite A hei tate 81 
ASME LCLVAT CU me ASCO tte tel cere eee oe he ah toes Ue eh SEE cues 83 
Amie DILetyr OGG OLOIMIA Lye INeS at eteintte Meith orons skate a cheen aie teens 84 
Atevsr Deanikehayerena<* one “AtOltsl, Wesmrpokhyvaklewrs os a Je AAS 86 
Greaies Preachers motu Olds Dorin swiGkuen citi te e cue ere ste anole 86 
Wath Cree OOmL OMb rte te cite ot shee here eer a ohlotaietetits cro abuetenere sae 87 
lbberel’ss Akelabakersnavek ef Wbhaline AR Weiss 9 Strat tt eb Ae Ae Riley eae aOncachch 87 
Eker RMA SAAR OM Sysy he oie ROMNEY 7 A yk, G pas Noa PD pete OO 88 
ATT VA Oe eV AIS © aie PVOMAD GCE sire ares ale ett rsis ata ep oreyssts 89 


ClLOST iim ee SCONCE reo tea ede tate ae rT taeda ain «a Sie De ats, olen 90 


XX, 


XXI. 


XXIT. 


XXIII. 


XXIV. 


XXV. 


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XXVIL 
ve eigane 


XXIX. 


XXX, 
Dt, OG ip 


XOXXIT. 
XXXTIT. 
XXXIV. 

XXXYV. 


XXXVI. 
SX VIT. 
XXXVITI. 
XXXIX. 


XL. 


The Harrod’s Creek Presbyterian Church 
Pastor Thomas Cleland 
Rev. Andrew Sherely 
The Great Barnes Revival 
The Colored Baptist Churches 


SOCIAL LIFE IN THE OLD SOUTH 
A Slave Time Tragedy 
Memories of an Old Kentucky Home 


ABs AW wem Mele: “AM wehatce That WORM AHI. Goong sooo oo gadr Sumo ome sor 
Pastor Dinsmore Supports Rob Morris 
Pastor Dinsmore’s Successors 
Masonie Aid for Prison Sufferers 
Rob Morris the Evangel of Brotherhood 


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Doctor Newton and Aunt Martha HBubank 
Doctors Newton aSman eleachieriwrwrs cies teense percieertees tet tete eee 
Doctor Newton’s Famous Pupils 
Doctor Newton and the Civil War 
Elizabeth Henshaw 


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Col, and Mrs. Richard T. Jacob of Old Clifton 
Mrs. Sarah Benton Jacob 


Doctor Johnson of Westport 


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ANNALS OF THE POOR 
Hdward Os 2Guerran tila ok.c creeds Co aie Oe ier dee 
The Man of God at Home 
Jacob Ditzler 


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The Work at West Goshen 


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The Struggle For a Free School at West Goshen 
“The Backwoods Seminary’’ 
Thomas, B. Talbot 


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“The Miracle of Romsey”’ 


Mr. W. 


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N. Taylor Discusses the Future of 
Goshen Church and Community 


FROM SERVITUDE TO. SERVICE 
“My Old Kentucky 


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Home” 


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The Story of a Slave Child 


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‘The -Dream) off’F'reedoms oc: ceo en et en bce 
A Story of Little Africa 
The Young Brickmaker 


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The Young Light Bearer 


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The Story of William the Shepherd 


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A Home Missionary to Little Africa 


The Shepherd. and > His" VPs6anle sl. cntws we ow oo eee oe eee 
Jvosenh :S.  Cotters Ore suc oe ce ee so ah alee ee 
Book of ,.Remembrante 252.2% +... e865. ab ee eee 
The Centennial Goshen Church 
As the Life of a Tree 
The Dark Mother Comes 


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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 
Frontispiece—Rev. John Rule at 87. 
CEL AES Via yan OU SiGumecace st Ween Reet cura cits Mier ale enelehns cotter st sis, wear de tietel ecb ote che II 
Clima rrodsmereckw Bap uLStm CNULCD secheaieiskete cel me o tenets Cha ckeweher ceo, of cheese oh oharche IV 
STEM AG... TBURDD & Genes Rao aaa tied ee crite eee OM al necator eset ey CPLR Oi ALA Nem Se wP VI 
(GROUCOTES LaCLONLY Terre ercicheteue! wet oteecee tela Satie kere cl ch outset ice See doen ee eed dane eter eet. on 2 
OGL Tote Kiytewatekey Wa Wo paai ssl a ee Sees trem, hviaee Boke Sverre Ayreertes ey BARI ath ha erg nee a a 9 
eC Uae A CaO GIN Voetoncicr terior tsietet cictonehadtnen et oan Stet a cieaiae nto Meiee eee oe ate eee we 14 
caver OD ae ECD Cun Tall Soe DPI) Cue paren eon ge oe tcisroy od a Ce Ac. tr ee newt teres: iyi 
eae me OTOL iO. LLM Maia Mame Mca Rint: Shears ek ch TRS Kulsiae PRD at aiectn te hecho creo or a 19 
VET TY VaeMe 1 T°] Sob Quemeeten uaperheeus chet evel tio sstioksl ctersssMreiens. tee eit cleo hs idee Gre ishcle ne. autoreve. Nees 21 
ECV ALU OD Clitmr Give ES ali seer 1) ae cL) seccace ciel honsher ences: tril ave aol eehcee ee lex clictoke o Gis senels c or 23 
IVE, REMADE CODER AWECIS oye ton Ata ain nae (CRANE N eT SST Cir Ce Speen een Oe SS oe A ee 26 
FVen ue OL Mme VVELLITEL SI) O Ollsea vecnen iret stds eiarel CS0 seeks wieiat ae rac hs cin G aruret ee eee seeyel a al ceaereke 27 
Poem te te. 1a AOS TOD OTe I UL Car blotters «icc cS ain, ) aotecchters 6s Geet ec aeele 30 
OLOMeeNLT ema O | Ol Cp pmrcwert aie Grete tesecee tern 6 rouencre bole re ce nee aiotite oaes Shaieiese 2b sisi eons 35 
JRO eWO, IRENE. Wad bieieay IS tenyioat xehokol wMeygcnesy Mageiley oo vig pinto > Ga oo oO Goo oo 36 
Why, AWS KORRES Oa oats Ace i ees oer orto a CR ees eae tre Anite rd in Se ede 37 
VS CAT Va VOL LO Liter ECU Gitmetrerce ce sige sfeney see Weneay ane coy tis ets eae A Gk ti NOM Uat numer asl ee tate ee 45 
Ol CAVVLO © LC Oll Kee EL ONY C gape ieee este el oe i elett mete wees Gocnt ea iL. ohetecrar § ste nee mops clo iale 51 
WAG AEE VCO OE O MLR Atepew ane tettahe isto) ot a cork sbereh sit ate pel Syebronenons cone tecti cu Galiokedce’ she aleleretehie cha. wite toys 55 
UMS mG wa COL ua nde ON saVVICDSLOMs cnet. Way one suatercusyelale cteie son tears aleteny shee ere 58 
EG LU rl OW. CSc ete harctecers ofc, onetelel eke te lec cts. oftells cet cluhsite’ sree te: vt hehe evsvehe Due tel sel creneie ai ster oienene 64 
Vee VOMctSa Gl CLAN aL) sek) eagles eRe eer eye OAS, a ease depeche Gro chko oa ele ate bets 68 
FATTO WeSC COL CaiMeats oe ctete cierci er si srensts Wereieie “onsashene eve file aie eee clo anole hells a Sorelle dls) al eh eveits 70 
NUE) Came OUIUGT: Vis 1) LIL Chisewa cle cece cies als age hence tce efeteie oles esos Te cureticnc eterarecelsystenste \sysilsMeus 72 
[Rew I1BE Tey Ishbyeeye prey) ADE ADRS 5 Aen bic atoms Sans OeORS CO OIOIA CEO ond CUO CRI CRIN cet monic 74 
PO COD mC OO DCL tesa cry sich o oicee Mttee eacatie cies cheiel ono ashes ete es eRonare Ro elo ee auete a Secs an 
MSu AC MEET) CL On me L) me Laces cra. Sie edorstukey pede eae ole oUt sbab si.clie~e'\e) este P ane Se) scotia oily omen ageeare one 81 
ANesesiavs kere 1s. NALS yi DR aD eA eon Oa aie ee Aer PR t ag er BPE 8) coe hang 82 
eieauta SO mV OHSU Se] Dog we) Manan otic, irene het ccoter GMA Pe GE RemG mceRa seg noes se cca Gnare ie! ede SaeletereMepehio ie: oh ers 83 
WAY THISHL2 saa), JEL, CCR SSy a Wig, ga Rar BB eee os a aes an Ph cs lr Ser Ie eer Ame ey etnies ch gees 84 
EN Onemee EA omV LC O,.WT1e me LS LDA 8 Merced. ereeemeh ane Chstceus eran irs cine s, seeWeacleh oie alone) etsie\etel saets 93 
(Ghanecpermuere "(hare ave ieh WM Wee UA IEW elo OLY a ever bear cucece. bone cab Gece Cue On ROR CET CRONE Pee eae cae 100 
rrr eo Lol ik TOMESTOAUK «orc «. oe oc ohe oles cha esi one ol) a sibters bo, deo ipa s stage 103 
Rew, Al, JBL AD ISOS eKebaeme perce sep Glyph ee Deco Sn torn come Pan eee aR anee eae re e 106 
YEN OLIMEENE CEE ES nt siec, 5, sna? cAaucys bona on ceeoten so usrihrak-me ve Me eat e] oe uo sues nents Uosera ae ie, iste ahs wo tse ats 107 
i) ee VE MEIN OREL OL) Wetec tt nue cuy at cere iercne cy cmrerememaert eee MeL teoane tie then or et cmte: elo the iste ny ole 112 
PML Atta mE ATL Ct tas stale tketet ee tenement eetentaapeiene Gictecsucotaks theLece eiecsie tele arate cher sera 113 
Pim OS el meA CACCILY: i... 5) 5,6 ket che che cise oles cadlbucion ters, FS ae loscarcio ie Ree cere Biome 114 
LT AE TEE PO APL As FUDAN est, chy Montene cae e Gnas oatmeal ois ale cee foe Balle eee LL 
INE Wal OLIV AO OLE Ol Kistt ect anscageacdctesa-tcshsbavtenc of hetero be Dacia tocstetaberetebclelats s sherit a ceoster means ars 116 
CCAM EME SOUL Lemme OD ITS OM rinses: eetelcacl arta ncterrtete much ccsrer he of ais etaNer dic, Scehav oie sie aca lettiere aba LY) 
AMA eNOS. dete, ADM AYeSR 8 ota dt ORG ERO OF SOWA cht Ola o > Scio OES 6 eet Oeenn Cpe Creican fe ocerne 123 
ia STL CTIOE PAY MS CIO Ol 8 nid cig har aie ieee atl MERGES cee ak oan KL tee och 5, © wee etiae shee 136 
Pesos onc hurchesand 1 SCHOOLS. fe discount tee heen el dee studies wi diele § 141 
Beer OT ONA TS SDV hcl ane i a cant ci? Seo eames ans eh aloes he: Nic oe) Sie lB heme Aas wi ede ce h is Wiel hg 145 
VUCLUL LOTTE omEN E> LK TN Dice.) arotete ot cco eevee. <fellshch tte cePe che ciehice gers eset isla tretatelete axe stele eared Se, BME 
ee een IST SOT LOM NDA bb 9.2 ius wns ov nia ce sieeetal hameeh ec atae eae es pes see ork a 153 
Cs ee AN at NOS LOMV T FLOUT syeisue carols hi ietee fs s+ ate Seek ale tee.» Ghat Sa hs 157 
RRR MN LOL U EL IYY vale ake Gal ck el eek ToR aS aces Sacre Naka cae a 8 AUN sear er es we ofsiatod & o Ste we 8 legs 159 
VOSS ol OS MOET ENS ites 5.0 itera eeBrc Sten tins ch be Perec b> ARPES CREE DM cos 166 
See Tree VY Lis Pte PSO TIDAL ec. i cca «chai scalars Oe aye ee oly Wickel vig W eUale’ apot aie 174 
NES ee O DUCT Ame) Samer tarcrene te: Mel h twa rove Kea et ot aw eit cl Sher acete see wre ave ibis, uezahe ai 'va apage 184 
vane, IMolepelekss aah, Gee wel aD ke WD fea oe Coat aoe ae ry Ake Bae rare tai WA a Oa 186 


lave Tare heel CO CERT GCM OD. Cnn Se pelts ety Bere Abe eam ae eee, RS Oe ee ie see acess 188 





This book belongs to a class of publications that should be encouraged, 
the histories of local communities and institutions so often “‘to dumb forgetful- 
ness a prey.” 


It is the history of a country church now a hundred years old, and of a 
community in which it has been the central and uniting influence. Though 
it is a Presbyterian Church, there is nothing narrow or sectarian in its story; 
and though miles away from city or town, it is linked with more than one 
name of wide reputation. The founding of the church, for example, is connected 
with the ministry of Gideon Blackburn while pastor of the First Presbyterian 
Church of Louisville; and our author takes occasion to recite much of the career 
of this pioneer preacher and educatur—he was at one time President of Centre 
College—of the West and the South. 


We are also made acquainted with the ministers and teachers who, through 
the successive years, moulded the character of the community. 


While the book is of special interest to Presbyterians, it has a wider appeal. 
In its pages we learn much of the ideas, manners and customs of the people. 
A great deal of family history is given; and decendants of the men and women 
described will find here interesting facts and incidents in the lives of their 
ancestors. It is worth noting that a large proportion of these old family names 
are still found in the community. 


To his own father and mother, who for more than sixty years have lived 
and wrought in the church and community, Mr. Rule pays a tribute of filial 
affection and appreciation. 


The reading of this book will do much to promote the revival and con- 
servation of the country church, and to create a desire for country life, on 
which largely depends the future of religion among us as well as our social and 
political welfare. 


The author commands a clear and readable style, and both informs and 
entertains. He has made a valuable contribution to the important subject of 
Rural Sociology, to which he has devoted diligent study. 


Grea neMPHIE ie 
Presbyterian Theological Seminary, Louisville, Ky., December 12, 1925. 


1 


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Mie dit bo Set Peatsae ta 





Chie Alaper Miver Road in Song and Story 


“OLD HALF-WAY HOUSE”’ AT HARRODS CREEK 


HE Ohio River from time immemorial has been the great waterway 
of the Middle West. The story of Louisville, written some years 
ago for ‘‘Historic Towns of the Southern States,”’ tells the romantic 
history of this beautiful stream. And now the proposed highway 

from Louisville to Cincinnati on the Kentucky side follows the course of “The 
Hudson of the West’’ and passes through sections of country rich in soil and 
scenic grandeur and full of historic and legendary association. 


The River road from the city limits to Harrods Creek is as familiar and 
lovely to the people of Louisville as Riverside Drive is to the people of New 
York City—a comparison made by nearly every visitor from the East. And 
the story of the old homesteads—where George Rogers Clark passed his last 
days, where Zachary Taylor lived and where Jefferson Davis made love to the 
daughter of “Old Rough and Ready’’—has often been related. The handsome 
modern mansions that crown the river hilltops compare with the rural seats of 
the leisured wealthy anywhere. 


But the story of the Upper River road has never been fully told; nor have 
the memorable old scenes, buildings and homesteads been marked and pointed 
out to the passing tourist. So our first illustration will be ‘‘“The Old Half-Way 
House’ at the mouth of Harrods Creek, a tavern dating far back into Indian 
and pioneer days when the tide of population flowed from the Southern States 
into the newly-opened Northwest ‘Territory. These land-hunters and home- 
seekers were terrified by the falls at Louisville and crossed the river at Utica to 
avoid the current and rapids they dreaded worse than death itself. Many an 
historic personage passed over stream in those times, and tradition says there 
were occasional bloody encounters when the rough backwoodsmen imbibed too 
freely at the old tavern. 

In later days, when Zachary Taylor and Henry Clay were popular heroes, 
the farmers of the upper river counties rode into Louisville horseback and 
stopped at the old ‘‘Half-Way House’ to break the length of the journey, and 
in the woods adjoining the barbecues of hard cider times were held. The old 
tavern often rang aloud with political disputation and the click of glasses and 
firearms were not infrequently heard together. 


“KUYKENDALL STATION, A HISTORIC SPOT 


At the corner of Seventh and Main streets, Louisville, stands the beautiful 
granite Column, erected ‘““ITo commemorate the establishment of the town of 
Louisville, 1780. On this site stood Fort Nelson. Built in 1782 under the 
direction of George Rogers Clark, after the expedition which gave to the country 
the great Northwest. The Colonial Dames of America in the State of Kentucky.”’ 


But few people are aware that this historic spot and stone are also tragically 
connected with the first, and almost simultaneous, settlements made in, and 
Indian massacres of the pioneers occurring in Jefferson and Oldham counties 
fifteen miles East of the future Falls City. They also recall the long-forgotten 
but brave and devoted Baptist soldier-preachers of that period. 


Very careful research into the Revolutionary records of Old Virginia, now 
published and accessible at the Louisville Public Library, restored entirely the 
lost history of “‘Kuykendall Station” and its founder on the John T. Yager 
farm near Brownsboro in Oldham County. 





“Old Half-Way House,” River Road Tavern at mouth of 
Harrods Creek. Once the beautiful and hospitable Lentz 
Cavender Home. “Kight Mile Tavern House” stood two 


miles below on River Road and sheltered many travelers. 
But the “Old Half-Way House has gathered more magic 
stirring ‘tradition of pioneer days when Utica was a great 
crossing point to the North West. 


Among the Revolutionary veterans paid off and honorably discharged 
at Fort Pitt were five men by the name of Kuykendall. These brave defenders 
of American freedom were Elijah, Jacob, Elisha, Moses and Peter Kuykendall. 
Moses was a member of Capt. William Harrod’s company in 1780 at the stations 
near the Falls of the Ohio, as Louisville was then called. In 1782 Kuykendall 
Station was established on the waters of Harrods Creek in what was then Jef- 
ferson county. 


Moses Kuykendall died and was buried at the old fort in December, 1807. 
The Yager homestead belonged to William and Abram Keller, pioneer Baptist 
preachers in Oldham county, and the first settlement in that section was made 
about the Kuykendall fortress and the old stone Harrods Creek Baptist Church, 
built in 1797, and still standing in good condition and use. The remains of the 
old fortress were long visible, but to-day only the ruins of an immense pioneer 
“still” are pointed out to the tourist on the old farm. 


Il 


THE FIRST FORT, NEAR GOSHEN 


In one of the most beautiful glens to be found amid the Ohio River hills 
above Louisville is situated the historic Snowden house. It was built in the 
fall of 1793 under the supervision of a pioneer carpenter, Andrew Marrs, of 
North Carolina, who came with the early settlers to this section of the State. 
When it is related that pioneers right around Louisville were unceasingly har- 
assed by the Indians for some years into the present century, and that the people 
farther up the river needed protection until even after the War of 1812, it will 
be seen how necessary it was that a strong fort should be erected at the first 
atrival of the settlers who located away from the hamlet at the Falls of the Ohio. 

The Snowden house, now owned by Mr. Giltner Snowden, was built for 
this purpose and other pioneer homes were put up in its immediate vicinity. 
It is quite well situated for a fortress, since it commands the approach of two 
long valleys and has a never failing spring of cool water at its door. All houses 
in those times were necessarily built beside a spring, and when people ask to- 
day why certain other sites, much more beautiful, were not selected, this fact 
may be recalled to account for it. 

The Snowden house was the first of a circle of forts that held back the 
inroads and attacks of the Indians from across the Ohio River in Indiana. Some 
vears later Rev. Gideon Blackburn, the great Presbyterian pastor in Louisville, 
a famous and eloquent pioneer preacher and college president, established an 
academy at the old fortress, which was taught by his gifted son, Rev. John N. 
Blackburn. For years young men and young women from Southern Indiana 
came to this early pioneer school to receive classical training. 


SHRADER- TAYLOR. AN OLD HOMESTEAD 


The Shrader-Taylor homestead at Goshen is one of the most beautiful 
types of the comfortable old brick dwellings modernized with every equipment 
of a twentieth century farm-house. The Shraders were sturdy Pennsylvania 
pioneers who built the old home about 1811 and °12. It withstood Indian 
attack like the Magruder house. On one of their raids from Indiana the red 
men captured and scalped a white boy by the name of Huckleberry on the back 
of the Shrader farm. His dead and bloody body was thrown into the little stream 
that has since borne the same name. ‘“‘Huckleberry Creek.’’ The Taylors who 
purchased and improved the old Shrader place a few years ago are also sturdy 
Pennsylvania people who have added much to the community to-day. 


OLD DEFENDERS OF RIVER FRONT 


On the northeast corner of the Thomas Bottorff farm above Goshen, about 
two miles from the river, are the ruins of what was once a commodious two- 
story log dwelling, with heavy stone chimneys. In a beautiful and secluded blue- 
grass grove pasture nearby is a broad, handsome, red-brown marble monument 
to the memory of a distinguished Revolutionary soldier and one of the earliest 
settlers and defenders of the Ohio River Front, the most perilous point in Old- 
ham county in those days. The following inscription meets the eye: 


III 


RICHARD TAYLOR 


Native of Virginia; 1740—1825. A commodore in the navy in the Rev- 
olutionary War, in which he captured many British vessels, and finally died 
from wounds received. 


CATHERINE SDA VIS SEA On 
His wife: 1750—1820 


Commodore Taylor doubtless settled on a Revolutionary grant of land 
in this section. The story of his coming to Oldham county was long lost to local 
tradition. But we now know that he was the ancestor of the late Richard Taylor 
Jacob, who had the monument put up in his memory some years ago. Governor 
Jacob himself was born in 1825 in the old log home that stood in the grove 
and has now gone to ruin. The creek below was named “Taylor's Run’’ for 


the commodore. 





Old Harrods Creek Baptist Church, Oldham County, built 
in 1797 near Kuykendall Fortress, Brownsboro. Same year 
that Long Run Church was built, where Abraham Lincoln’s 
grandfather was killed by the Indians. Both churches 
members of the same Associaition, 


Back on the Henshaw farm, near neighbor to the old Commodore Taylor 
home, still stands the old John Hanson Wheeler stone house, one of the few 
typical stone forts left in this part of Oldham, similar to those built around 
Kuykendall Station long ago, and one of which is still a substantial dwelling 
house. This house was the type between the early log and the later two-story 
brick dwellings erected around Goshen as early as 1810, ‘11 and °12. This 
type of stone dwelling is said to have been the home of freeholders in old 
England and the colonies. 


‘TIPPECANOE HERO LIVED AT ““BLUFP” 


On the old Tarleton farm known as ‘‘The Bluff,’’ now owned by the 
Bottorffs, stands a small brick sentry house commanding a wide sweep of the 


IV 


river up and down. Col. Ralph Tarleton was a neighbor of Commodore Taylor 
and served in the Tippecanoe campaign during the War of 1812. He, too, was 
one of the bravest defenders of the river front. The late John Grove Speer, M. D., 
another honored centenarian of Oldham county, refers to the terror of Indian 
attack after the Pigeon Roost Massacre in Southern Indiana, in September, 1812. 
Even as late as that year the pioneers were afraid to live very far from the 
river front fortress. 

Col. Tarleton always claimed that he killed Tecumseh in the Battle of the 
Thames, and there is no doubt that he was in the fore-front of the battle with 
other heroic Kentuckians. In after years he was such a lover of the Ohio River 
that he built his dwelling house after the model of a steamboat, as can be seen 
from the illustration. 


OLD MAGRUDER HOME, Now BELKNAP HOME 


One of the first brick houses built in the vicinity of the forts that have 
just been described, was the Magruder homestead. Enoch Magruder, its architect 
and owner, was a member of the Maryland family of his name and came to 
Kentucky among the first pioneers, building himself a simple log house, to begin 
with, near a bend of Harrods Creek, in 1802. 

The Magruder homestead was built in 1811-12, as it then required two 
or three years to finish a large brick dwelling. The brick were previously pre- 
pared on the farm; the walls of the dwelling were made quite thick and the 
rooms were large and comfortable. 

All during the second war with England the country around the Magruder 
house was kept in alarm by threatened raids from Hoosier Indians; and one 
day in 1812, just before the building was completed, a courier from up the 
river came dashing through the neighborhood with the wild report that the 
Indians had crossed the river, were burning and scalping, and would be at hand 
very soon. People by the score came rushing to the Magruder house from every 
quarter, as the Snowden house was considered too small. The usual force of 
armed men moved toward the river, but the enemy did not appear. In such a» 
event the pioneer party. would cautiously cross the river and send scouts back 
into the Indiana forest to see if there were any traces of the Indians. If not, 
after an interval of careful waiting, they would return to Kentucky and reassure 
the people. 

In addition to having served as the brick fortress in its community, the 
Magruder homestead is interesting from the well-authenticated story of Daniel 
Boone's visit to its vicinity before the Revoluntionary War. Below the house is 
a part of Harrods Creek especially fine for angling, which was known during 
the last century among the Indians as ‘‘Happy Fishing Waters.’’ On the hill above 
this arm of the creek is a fortification to defend it, similar to the one at Fern 
Grove, (Rose Island) Indiana. 

On a beech tree right across from the fort Daniel Boone’s name was found 
carved in his characteristic style, with the ‘‘D’’ backward and “‘E”’ similarly 
connected. The name was surely genuine, because the settlers of the community 
accepted it as such, and fifty years ago Mr. James Henshaw, of Oldham county, 
cut out the block containing it and presented it to some historical society. 


V 


The Magruder farm was purchased several years ago by Mr. William Bel- 
knap, Jr., of Louisville, and has since been transformed into one of the most 


beautiful and valuable homes and farms between Louisville and Cincinnati. 


THE REYNOLDS HOUSE, OLD KENTUCKY HOME 


After the simple log cabin of the lone forest, the second type of dwelling 
erected by the pioneers was the two-story log house. It is remarkable what large 
and comfortable two-story log houses were built by the early settlers in Ken- 
tucky. Many of these houses, with solid stone chimneys and weathered over 
in modern fashion, stand to-day as secure and commodious a type of ‘“‘the old 


Kentucky home’’ as one would wish to see. 











“The Bluff’—Home of Col. Ralph Tarleton, a River Front 
Defender, above Goshen, Kentucky. 


Such a home is that on the old farm of Mr. R. W. Reynolds, near Goshen. 
It was built in 1797 or 1798 by Robert Woolfolk, a Virginia Revolutionary 
soldier, who came to Kentucky with five brothers and settled on Harrods Creek 
just back of the circle or river front fortresses that protected the pioneer commun- 
ity from Indian attack. Robert and Edmund Woolfolk entered land together and 
put up their dwelling houses on adjoining hills. They were ready with the 
rifle at a moment’s notice and were thrifty tillers of the soil. But they were 
also a superior type in mental culture and moral force, and did much for the 
progress and uplift of the community. Robert Woolfolk became a merchant 
and lived to be nearly 100 years of age. He died in Louisville and is buried in 
Cave Hill Cemetery. The Reynolds home and farm (now owned and operated by 


Mr. I. L. Wilson) is one of the best in the entire country round. 


VI 


ATTRACTIVE SCENES ALONG THE ROAD 


Two scenes of the Upper River road are of special historic interest. The 
first (described in a later chapter) is a grove where stood 100 years ago the old 
community meeting house whose most famous pastor was Rev. Gideon Black- 
burn, chaplain in the Indian wars with Andrew Jackson and a warm personal 
friend of the General. This same grove was the old meeting house cemetery, 
where the ashes of Revolutionary heroes rest. It is located on the farm of Mr. 
J. W. Mount. 

The River road scene next mentioned is passing through the village of 
Goshen. The old road was called the Goshen and Sligo plank road and turn- 
pike. The building to the right (no longer there) was the historic old 
Pythagoras Masonic Lodge. Other buildings of note still stand in the little 
hamlet. 


VII 








GIDEON BLACKBURN 


CHAPTER 1 





Light Bearers of the Better Time to be; 

Love Voices in the Western Wilderness; 
Pathfinders in whose footsteps still we press, 
Climbing the perilous steeps to Liberty. 
Teachers of Truth, they set the people free— 
Co-workers in the Old World House of Tel, 
They braved the deep to find a virgin soil 
And Promised Land beyond the sundown sea. 
Thetr Church and Altar were the cabin home, 
The open wood and God's unbounded dome, 
Without a thought of glory, self or gold, 
They fed the flock within the forest fold; 
And we, their children in a New Crusade 
Must lft the Cross and follow unafraid! 


WILL never forget the thrill of interest with which I first opened 

Sprague’s “‘Annals of the American Pulpit’’ and read the sketches of 

Francis Makemie, founder of the Presbyterian Church in America, 

William Robinson, the wonderful teacher and circuit-rider, who dis- 
covered Samuel Davies, the eloquent youth who became Patrick Henry’s pastor 
and President of Princeton College. Then there were Father David Rice, founder 
of Presbyterianism in Kentucky, and Father John Dickey, Presbyterian Pioneer in 
Indiana, and Gideon Blackburn, the Whitefield of the West and South. I was 
somewhat familiar with the lives of John Witherspoon and James Caldwell, brave 
Revolutionists of Colonial days; but those other Fore-runners of Faith and 
Freedom in the Old South took hold of my heart with all the fascination of 
hero-worship. Had their stirring story been told me in boyhood my whole con- 
ception of the gospel ministry at that impressionable period would have been 
different. As it was, they were all but lost even to local tradition, and I have 
discovered them for myself only after the most tireless research. 

What a pity that Presbyterianism in America never had an Edward Eggles- 
ton! Nevertheless, these Fore-runners have been my constant inspiration in the 
Country Life Movement, because they were Social Crusaders, indeed. It meant 
something to be a man of God in those trying times. When the appeal of the 


4 HER WIGHT BEARERS 


scattered and unshepherded Scotch-Irish exiles in Maryland and Virginia for a 
pastor came to the Presbytery of Laggan in 1683, they ordained young Francis 
Makemie for the mission to their countrymen beyond the sea. 

The Moderator of this very Presbytery had just the year before been re- 
leased from prison, a sufferer for Freedom’s sake, and permitted to depart on a 
similar mission to Maryland. Makemie himself was about twenty-five years of 
age when he came to America, and it was just twenty-one years before he went 
back to England in behalf of his exiled countrymen, to secure additional pastors 
for the churches he had organized. He was a tireless itinerant of the gospel and 
a noble defender of free speech in all the colonies. 

The Established Church was corrupt and impotent, except to persecute and 
oppress, and Makemie found the Dissenters holding their services in private 
houses, which had to be registered as places of worship under the Toleration Act. 
These early household gatherings first kindled the fires of Revolution in the land. 
and it is small wonder that the authorities were suspicious of them, especially when 
addressed by men of power and eloquence like Makemie. 

He was a man of affairs. He married well and settled in Virginia, where 
he engaged in the business of a merchant and planter and devoted himself to the 
progress and improvement of the Colony in every particular. He wanted to see 
the South develop its own resources of agriculture like New England. He urged 
the people to build towns and break up their social isolation. He brought a 
large and valuable library with him to America and was the advocate of education 
and culture everywhere. He had a comfortable home, well furnished, with good 
portraits; and his estate was well stocked with flocks and herds. He was a 
slave-holder and had two white servants also, for he was a typical Southern 
planter as well as a gospel minister. 

However, this was merely to make him independent and give him resources 
to carry enlightenment and liberty to the people, for we find him braving every 
peril of sea and land to preach and teach throughout the colonies. He made him- 
self the shepherd and leader of all the scattered and persecuted Dissenters, and 
the story is well known how on his way to New England in 1707, with his 
companion, John Hampton, he was arrested and imprisoned for preaching the 
gospel in New York, notwithstanding the two ministers had been entertained at 
dinner by the Governor and both had licenses with them, under the Toleration 
Act. Makemie suffered the full penalty and paid a fine of $400, but he so 
fearlessly defended freedom of speech that he won his case with the jury and saw 
the corrupt Governor finally deposed from office. That official sneeringly called 
Makemie ‘‘a jack-of-all-trades, a preacher, a doctor of physic, a mechanic, an 
attorney, a counsellor at law, and, which is worst of all, a disturber of govern- 
ments.” 

Rather a ‘‘diversity of gifts,’’ indeed; but the Fore-runners of Faith and 
Freedom were men of the people in a great age of the world. At the very time 
he was most needed he died, while only about fifty years of age; but he had 
builded so well that succeeding generations will cherish the memory of his services 
to the Free Church and Free Republic of the New World. 

The founders of the various religious denominations in Oldham County, 
Kentucky, were among the most famous men of their time. Three of them were 
of Scotch or Scotch-Irish descent. William McKendree, founder of the Method- 


Wsls) JAC eAl Velarde ales 5 


ists: Gideon Blackburn, founder of the Presbyterians; and Alexander Campbell. 
founder of the Christians, in Oldham. They came right on the field and devoted 
themselves personally to the upbuilding of spiritual and social life. 

One of the most gifted and famous of these great men was Rev. Dr. Gideon 
Blackburn, the Apostle of Presbyterianism in and around Louisville in the long 
ago and founder of the old Goshen Church. He was a Western Whitefield in 
the pulpit. He ranked with Daniel Boone as a leader of the Scotch-Irish pioneers 
in Kentucky, Tennessee and the Northwest. He was a right arm to Gen. Andrew 
Jackson in subduing the hostile Indian tribes of the South; and was the Assem- 
bly commissioner to convert, educate and civilize the same red men, giving some 
of the best years of his life to the task and succeeding wonderfully at it. Few 
men ever understood the Indians better or so held their confidence. He traveled 
thousands of miles preaching and collected thousands of dollars in the North and 
East for his Mission. 

He was equally interested in the education of the poor white people of the 
South. He was himself a poor boy; born in Augusta County, Virginia, of 
sturdy, hard-working Scotch-Irish Presbyterian parents. Until he was twelve 
years of age he made his home with his grandfather, Gen. Blackburn, a Revolu- 
tionary soldier. But he had an uncle, Gideon Richie, a devout and most kindly 
young man, who noticed that his namesake was a lad of promise; so that he was 
put to school and educated for the ministry by the manual labor of his beloved 
uncle. His whole heart was ever with the common people, and he looms on the 
horizon of Southern history like some great figure of the heroic age. 


CHAPTER Il 
Oidteon Blackburn 


IDEON BLACKBURN is the sort of a hero the Presbyterian church 
would hold up to the Boy and Girl Scouts of America. One record 
has it that he was licensed to preach the gospel at twenty years of 
age, another at twenty-three. The only accessible account of his life is 

found in Sprague’s ‘“‘Annals of the American Pulpit,’’ a work unknown to the 
present generation, yet containing an authentic and thrilling story from which we 
shall freely draw. Young Blackburn joined the tide of emigration into ‘Ten- 
nessee and there first distinguished himself. 

‘Here is the young preacher,’’ says Sprague, “without a dollar, on the very 
outskirts of civilization, ready to enter upon his work; and he certainly did 
enter upon it under very peculiar circumstances. The scattered population of 
that region was at that time constantly liable to Indian depredations. A com- 
pany of soldiers was about to march from the neighborhood in which he 
lived, to protect a fort on the spot on which Maryville was subsequently built. 
Mr. Blackburn being doubly armed—having on one hand his Bible and hymn 
book, and on the other his hunting shirt, rifle, shot pouch, and knapsack, joined 
this company, and marched with them to the fort, and there he commenced 
his labors as a minister of the gospel. 

“Within sight of the fort, he built a house for his own dwelling, and shortly 
after was erected a large log building that served as a church. * * * During 
the early part of his ministry here his situation was one of imminent peril. 
So long as the Cherokees remained hostile, no work could be done except by 
companies—some being obliged to stand as sentinels while others would work, 
with loaded guns so near that they could seize them in a moment. As there 
were many forts in the region, the young preacher would pass, under an escort, 
from fort to fort and within a moderate period would preach in them all. He 
very soon became a general favorite and his preaching commanded universal 
attent.on. 

“When the people were out of their forts the place of preaching was gen- 
erally a shady grove; the immediate position of the preacher was beneath some 
wide-spread oak; and he usually stood with his gun at his side and all the 
men, including also boys who were old enough to use a rifle, stood around 
him, each with gun in hand. He was compelled at this period to perform 
not a little labor with his own hands; and his preparation for preaching was 
made either while he was actually thus engaged, or in the brief intervals of 
leisure which he was able to command. He kept himself not only on familiar 
terms, but in exceedingly kind relation with all his people and exerted a power- 
ful and most benign influence in forming their characters.”’ 

In personal appearance Gideon Blackburn was a superb type of manhood, 
despite a fractured thigh bone in his youth, which was badly set and occasioned 
a slight lameness throughout life. He was full six feet two inches tall, like 


AieGe kA ie AE a MereveUane soca 7 


so many of the Scotch-Irish ministers and soldiers of American history. 
Sprague says that despite his lameness he moved about with ease, rapidity and 
grace as well as dignity. ‘‘Indeed, it was often remarked that his gait, as well 
as his whole bearing, was military—resembling rather a man who had _ been 
trained in a camp than one who had been educated in a cloister or a college.’ 

He was one of the finest looking men of his generation, yet with no 
trace of personal vanity. His biographer describes him as possessing strongly 
marked features—‘‘A high and somewhat receding forehead, eyebrows prom- 
inent but smooth, eyes large, full, light blue or rather grayish. His nose was 
‘arge but not heavy and slightly acquiline. His lips were thin, finely chiselled 
and gently compressed and the corners of his mouth being slightly elevated, 
he usually looked as one wearing a benignant smile. His chin was broad and 
prominent, giving the aspect of solidity and firmness to the whole countenance. 
His complexion was ruddy and healthful. His head was large and when he was 
a young man, was clothed with a heavy suit of glossy black hair. In his latter 
years his hair became perfectly white and being parted on the crown of his 
head, it hung in large and graceful curls over the back part of his neck and 
down almost to his shoulders, which, added to his fair complexion and fine 
face, gave him a venerable and even majestic appearance. It was his eye, how- 
ever, that was the most striking feature in his whole countenance. Calm, mild, 
benevolent and even somewhat languid in its ordinary expression, it was capable 
of outshadowing every thought, feeling and emotion or passion of his soul with 
out effort.’’ 

There was only one portrait of Dr. Blackburn ever painted. He was 
urged and implored many times by many people who admired and loved him, 
but would never give his consent, having a peculiar idea, which he got from 
his old teacher, Rev. Dr. Doak, of Tennessee, that it was conducive to per- 
sonal vanity and a violation of the second commandment—‘‘Thou shalt not 
make unto thee any graven image or any likeness’’—to have one’s portrait 
painted. Yet when his fame as a pulpit orator and heroic missionary of the 
South-west made him a man admired wherever he went, his many friends 
determined to obtain his portrait at all hazards. The story of it is given by 
Dr. Blackburn himself in the biography. 

“It is one and the only unpleasant association I have connected with 
Boston. It was obtained, not with my consent, but by stratagem. Some 
ladies wished me to sit for my portrait—I would not consent, for I was then 
as I still am, opposed to all such ministrations to human vanity. Besides, I 
think it expressly contrary to the second commandment. But my friends de- 
termined to have my likeness at all events. An artist was procured and secrecy 
enjoined upon him. I was invited several afternoons in succession to meet with 
friends at the house of one of the ladies. The artist was concealed in a favor- 
able position in an adjoining room and labored at the portrait, while my friends 
kept me in earnest conversation about my favorite hobby—the wants of the 
Southwest. Thus the portrait was obtained and engraven and before I was 
aware, the engraving was in the hands of many.” 


CHAPTERS Il 


As 


Limancipatar 





R. BLACKBURN passed through Kentucky and visited Louisville sev- 
eral times during his missionary travels. In May, 1823, he was in- 
vited to preach for the Presbyterian congregation of the town, 
coming from ‘Tennessee for that purpose. He was already an 

acceptable and popular minister throughout the State and he accordingly moved 
to Louisville with his family at the call of the old First church. During 
the four years of his pastorate, from 1823 to 1827, the membership more 
than doubled and its influence was felt throughout the community. Dr. Black- 
burn was accompanied by his son, Rev. John N. Blackburn, in many a good 
missionary and educational enterprise in the surrounding country. The son's 
Academy on the river road above Louisville, was a popular pioneer educational 
center. The son lived, married and now lies buried at the old Samuel Snowden 
farm, near Goshen. 

It was during his Louisville pastorate that Dr. Blackburn took a stand 
against slavery and in favor of emancipation that makes him one of the notable 
predecessors of Abraham Lincoln. Curran Pope, a prominent Presbyterian of 
the time, relates the incident. ‘‘There is or was in this vicinity a church called 
Beulah, erected and donated by a Mr. H————, the deed to which was drawn 
by Dr. Blackburn and the gift was made through his influence. Mr. H— 
had been an extensive Negro trader to the South and had accumulated a large 
estate. He was converted by the preaching of Dr. Blackburn and in his last 
moments Dr. Blackburn was with him and wrote his will, by which he eman- 
cipated all his Negroes and provided for their support and removal to Africa 
and conveyed his real estate for benevolent objects. The probate of this will 
was resisted by the heirs next of kin—he being unmarried; and the will was set 
aside by the Court of Appeals on account of the controlling influence exercised 
over the testator by Dr. Blackburn.”’ 

Dr. Blackburn’s attitude toward slavery is further illustrated by his 
biographer: “‘In regard to the temporal and spiritual welfare of his domestics, 
he always manifested a deep concern. One of them who had served him very 
faithfully for several years, he emanicipated when he was about thirty-five years 
of age, giving him a handsome outfit toward housekeeping. The others, some 
seven or eight in number, he emancipated one after another, until all were freed 
with two exceptions. These were very wicked and were judged by him 





unfit or unworthy to enjoy their freedom and being an annoyance in _ his 
family, he sold them. The sale of these slaves, it is believed, he ever regretted, 
notwithstanding their viciousness and unworthiness, for he was always opposed 
to slavery and ever gave his countenance and example, with these two exceptions, 
to the cause of emancipation. Those whom he liberated from bondage, with 
the exception of the first, were all sent to Liberia in Africa—the only place, 
as he judged where the colored man can enjoy true and substantial freedom.” 


THE PLIGHT BEARERS 9 


It is said that the Rev. John Little’s concern for the salvation and social 
uplift of neglected and degraded colored people of Louisville began through his 
personal interest in a Negro boy employed by him, who gave promise of better 
things than mere manual labor. This, in substance, is the whole story of 
Negro emancipation and education advocated by the Presbyterian church in gen- 
eral. Gideon Blackburn, however, was one of the greatest friends of freedom 
and social development the Negro ever had. The following remarkable instance 
is taken from Presbyterian history: 





THE OLD EDWARDS HOME, 


Where Rev. John N. Blackburn married and lived when 
Pastor-Teacher at old Goshen Church. lLater the Busey 
Snowden Residence. 


“The First African Church (Presbyterian, in Philadelphia), founded in 
1807, owed its existence and for many years its continued support, largely to 
the Evangelical Society of Philadelphia, organized upon the recommendation and 
through the influence of Dr. Alexander. Its first pastor, although never installed, 
was John Gloucester, a slave of Dr. Blackburn, of Tennessee. He had at- 
tracted the attention of the latter, under whose preaching he was converted, by 
his piety and natural gifts and by him was purchased and encouraged to study 
with a view to the ministry. After having been licensed and ordained by 
Union Presbytery he was, in 1810, received from that body by the Philadelphia 
Presbytery and under the patronage of the Evangelical Society, continued in 
charge of the African church until his death in 1822. The house of wor- 
ship, located on the corner of Shippen and Seventh streets was completed in 1811. 


10 DHEA LG He Bevis 


‘Mr. Gloucester first commenced his missionary efforts by preaching in 
private houses; but these were soon found insufficient to accommodate his con- 
gregations. A school house was procured near the site of the future edifice; but 
in clear weather he preached in the open air. Possessed of a strong and musical 
voice, he would take his stand on the corner of Shippen and Seventh streets and 
while singing a hymn would gather around him many besides his regular hearers 
and hold their attention till he was prepared to commence his exercises. Pos- 
sessed of a stout athletic frame and characterized by prudence, forbearance and 
a fervent piety, he labored with unremitting zeal, securing the confidence and 
respect of his brethren of the Presbytery, in building up the congregation which 
he had gathered. His freedom was granted him by Dr. Blackburn and by his 
own application he secured the means in England and this country to purchase 
the freedom of his family. He is said to have been a man of strong mind, 
mighty in prayer and of such fervor and energy in wrestling supplication that 
persons sometimes fell under its power convicted of sin.”’ 


CHARTERS LY 


Gideon Blackburn and Andrew Jackson 


‘IDEON BLACKBURN and Andrew Jackson had some Scotch-Irish char- 
acteristics in common, as the striking incident related by his biogra- 
pher shows: “‘On one occasion he had a difficulty with General 
Jackson in the presence of the General’s staff and the army, concern- 

ing the disposition which should be made of a company of soldiers which 
he himself had raised as volunteers and brought to Gen. Jackson’s camp. ‘The 
General wished to consign them to the command of an officer under whom 
the Doctor had given his pledge to the young men that they should not be 
placed. Thereupon the difficulty arose. Gen. Jackson was imperious—the 
Doctor was firm. It came to words—high words—many feared it would end 
in blows. A gentleman present remarked that it was the most exciting and 
eloquent duel of words he ever witnessed. 

“The Doctor was as haughty in his bearing as the General was imperious 
and threatening; but he was calm, collected and firm, and he carried his 
point, and then with a bow of great dignity, he ended by saying: ‘General, that 
is all | ever asked; and now with the greatest confidence, I commit these noble 
young men to your care, whose parents have committed them to me!’ 

“They parted with mutual civilities. Years afterward I called upon Gen. 
Jackson when he was President of the United States. JI came from the neigh- 
borhood of the Hermitage. The first person after whom he inquired was ‘my 
much respected friend, Dr. Blackburn.’ It so happened that I had a letter from 
the Doctor, and I immediately handed it to him. He apologized to me, saying: 
‘Excuse me a moment while I run over this letter.’ He broke the seal eagerly, 
and as he read, his countenance betrayed deep and serious emotion. ‘The sub- 
stance of the letter, as I learned afterward, was to urge upon him the fulfillment 
of a promise to confess Christ before the world. After the letter was read, the 
conversation turned upon the Doctor, and the President spoke of him with the 
greatest respect, and paid an eloquent tribute to his piety, usefulness and elo- 
quence.” 

The biographer remarks that this incident showed Dr. Blackburn's ‘‘self- 
control under contradiction and the highest pitch of excitement,’’ proving like- 
wise his pride and dignity under great provocation. ‘“‘There was rather more 
of the haughty bearing and defiant manner of the Norman Knight than was 
pleasant to behold in a Christian minister and especially in one who was ordin- 
arily so kind and gentle. And if Gen. Jackson could respect and even love him 
after that famous passage at arms, it was rare that the like happened with 


others.”’ 
But the biographer points out the ‘‘mighty man of valor’ that Gideon 
Blackburn was: ‘‘I have already said that in his gait and bearing the Doctor's 


manner was military. All his manners partook somewhat of this style. The 


gs PHE, GIGH Ph. BEARERS 


truth is, he had, in early life at least, a strong partiality for the profession of 
arms and even after he was a preacher he led or accompanied several expeditions 
against the Indians in East Tennessee; and in one of these he is said to have 
distinguished himself as a skillful commander and an intrepid soldier. ‘That 
this statement, if intended as a eulogy by me, would sound somewhat strange 
at the present day, I admit; but it is not so intended; for sure I am that 
I am no advocate of war - - - but I have no doubt that the Doctor's known 
love of adventure and his undoubted courage and his high military bearing in his 
manners, contributed largely to his influence over the hardy and adventurous 
pioneers of the West and Southwest, when he appeared before them as a preacher 
of the gospel; for such qualities among such a people, especially when associated 
in their minds with high moral worth, always command their admiration and 
respect.’ 

It was this greatness and gentleness of character that endeared him to all 
classes of people. The biographer mentions with what touching courtesy he 
always addressed one of his old and infirm domestics, ‘““Aunt Judy.’’ And for 
years he risked health and all his own material prospects to Christianize the 
Indians. As a teacher of young men he was the equal of any man of his time. 
His biographer, Rev. Dr. J. W. Hall, lived in the Blackburn home and con- 
tributed the main data for ‘‘Sprague’s Annals,’ whence our information is 
derived. Dr. Hall was himself a young man, a pupil of Dr. Blackburn at Old 
Centre College and this is his testimony: ‘‘He governed by authority, by con- 
descension, by love, by a thousand little acts of attention and kindness—chiefly, 
however by the power of persuasion and religious motives.” 

When the call to become President of Old Centre College came in 1827 Dr. 
Blackburn resigned his pastorate in Louisville and removed to Danville, where 
for several years he was greatly beloved and admired. He entirely eliminated the 
custom of duelling, then so much in vogue, making the penalty’ corporal pun- 
ishment if the student was under sixteen and expulsion if that age and over. 
It was never necessary to enforce this rule of the college, though on one occas’on 
two young men were presented for such an offense. The older one was the 
aggressor and the younger one had sent the challenge. The first one apologized 
in chapel after his public reprimand; but the second one backed toward the door 
and slipped out while the Doctor was praying over the case. A titter went 
around the room when the Doctor opened his eyes, but he exercised the great- 
est calmness and though it was some weeks, the boy eventually presented him- 
self once more before his fellow students and was courteously excused. The 
Doctor never lost the confidence or affection of a pupil. 


GHARTERS. V. 


Fallow Clrem 


co 


Cheir Aorks 





IDEON BLACKBURN was one of America’s greatest pulpit orators. 

He visited St. Louis in February, 1816, preached with wonderful ac- 

ceptance to the people and among his auditors were many Cath- 

olics. A French lady was a regular attendant and was deeply moved. 

Her priest took her to task, saying, ‘““‘Why do you never -shed tears over my 

sermons?’’ “‘Well, Father,’’ she replied, “if you will preach like Dr. Blackburn 
I will cry all the time!’’ 

It was the remarkable adaptability of the man himself to all types of character, 

to every condition of life, and his profound human sympathy that gave him such 
mastery of the heart; and then his temperament was ardently imaginative and emo- 
tional, for, like Goethe, Tolstoi, and other great men of history, he was born 
in the month of August. He but rarely wrote out a sermon. He never read a 
discourse in the pulpit, but always spoke easily from a few careful notes, although 
his preaching had every manifestation of the Spirit. He used to say to his pupils, 
“There is one rule not down in the books, more important than any: Get your 
head, heart and soul full of your subject, then let nature have her own way with 
you.’ 
When he was a young pioneer minister he was compelled to cultivate the 
farm for a living, because he and his people were extremely poor. So he would 
take his pen, ink, and paper into the field where he was plowing, leave them 
on a stump, thinking out his main points as he walked round the furrow. He 
thus became accustomed to thinking on his feet, and he practiced it in his study 
the rest of his life. He lived in an age, the pioneer period, when men and women 
were very emotional; and he stirred the heart as few men have ever done before 
or since; but he was always perfect master of himself and his audience, never 
playing upon their feelings merely for the sake of exercise. He believed far more 
deeply in the physical manifestations of the Great Revival of 1800 than his 
contempory Presbyterian associates, like Father David Rice and others. But Gideon 
Blackburn loved the great moving tide of pioneer emigrants as no other minister, 
for like Daniel Boone he followed them into the West and Northwest; and it was 
natural that his ways were their ways and his thoughts their thoughts. The differ- 
ence between Gideon Blacburn and David Rice was the difference between White- 
field and Wesley; but they would have been great in any age or country. 

The Blackburns made their Academy at the old Joseph Snowden home a 
young ladies Seminary for the entire section of country surrounding, in Southern 
Indiana and Kentucky. They took the manhood and womanhood at hand and 
moulded it for service. Our grandmother, Adaline Caldwell, then a young girl 
from Charlestown, Ind., boarded at the Blackburn Seminary and became a close 
and life-long friend of Mrs. Lavinia and Mary, the wife and daughter of Francis 
Snowden. 


A DHE IGE Le bEAR TKS 


It was at the commencement exercises of the Blackburn Seminary that 
Thomas J. Woolfolk first saw Adaline Caldwell. He was himself a young 
pioneer school teacher and her graduating exercises pleased him so greatly that a 
romance and marriage ensued, and Thomas J. Woolfolk joined heartily with 
Francis Snowden in perpetuating the educational and religious work of the 
Blackburns. Out of such academies and seminaries grew the colleges and univer- 
sities of the Middle West. Dr. Blackburn himself shortly after this period 
became the President of Centre College and later the founder of Blackburn Uni- 
versity in Illinois. There was yet living out there a centenarian student of 
this early pioneer school at the Joseph Snowden home, and some years ago 
he made a pilgrimage to the beloved spot of his boyhood, found Joseph Snow- 
den, who remembered all the blessed tradition, and the old man not only offered 
up a beautiful prayer of thanksgiving to God for the past but still turned thereto 
as a spring of perpetual youth. 





THE OLD BLACKBURN ACADEMY NEAR GOSHEN, KY. 


Early Pioneer Fortress and Andrew Marr’s Homestead. 
Now the Giltner Snowden Residence. 


We have always been proud of the fact that Francis Snowden and Thomas 
J. Woolfolk were the first advocates of the Washingtonian Temperance Society 
in the old days. [The same great battle must be fought and won today. Just 
as the devastating flood in the Ohio Valley in 1912 made our Scouts and Cru- 
saders realize the meaning of the Red Cross of Service, so the waste and destruc- 
tion of manhood and womanhood in every community through the deadly 
forces of evil brings home the meaning and mission of the New Crusade. A poor 
boy lay dying in the neighborhood, a victim of these deadly agencies. His case 
stirred the deepest sympathies of the people and there was a spontaneous move 


(ROE Gh heepE AKERS 15 


to save him. But it was too late. Tuberculosis carried him off. The brave 
old Presbyterian pastor of Goshen Church, Rev. H. R. Laird, crossed the high 
waters in a skiff to preach the funeral and the lesson of the occasion sank into 
the hearts of all. Thus slowly through suffering and struggle does the vision 
of saving service come. 

The old Southern families are very individualistic, like their English an- 
cestors before them. [They have a superior pride and dignity due to civilization 
and culture, and a love of freedom that is proverbial. !t required kingly men, 
royal characters, like Francis Makemie and Gideon Blackburn, to enlist such peo- 
ple on the side of religion. They were never won by motives of fear, selfish- 
ness or servility. The Presbyterian faith was conceived and born as one of the 
greatest revolutionary forces of modern history on two continents; and today its 
supreme appeal is once more to the innermost heroism of the individual for 
the good of all. With saving conviction and vision must come the call of the 
New Crusade. It is not now on the battlefield but right here at home, near 


9? 


at hand, day by day, year in and year out, “‘The victory of endurance born! 








REV. JOHN RULE IN HIS PRIME 


CHAPTER VI 
A Father of the Faith 


Y FATHER was a Presbyterian minister of the type that left its im- 
press on the world in Puritan days. He was orderly and indus- 
trious, and always able to maintain himself and his loved ones in 
comparative comfort. He was always a toiler and glorified labor by 

his tireless industry. He was a faithful father, i. e., full of faith, and he proved 
his faith by his works. How well do I remember when the foundation was 
just beginning to be laid for, the first home he made for his family. I was 
scarcely six years old, but the scene made a deep and permanent impression 
upon me. 

There stood the husband and father with three small boys about him, 
and his devoted wife with an infant in her arms, all gathered to take a re- 
ligious part in the solemn ceremony of home building. The soil had just been 
broken by the workmen. The wheel-barrow and shovels were standing by. 
The good man and minister, clad in working garb of plain shirt and trousers, a 
kerchief about his neck, bared his head, lifted up his hands toward heaven, a 
look of reverent invocation glorifying his kindly face, his great blue eyes closed, 
his heart at once in heaven above with God the Father and on earth with his 
loved ones about him—praying the benediction of the Deity upon the human hab- 
itation called Home. Immediately following the prayer each one of us, including 
the infant brother, successively went through the form of shovelling at the 
foundation. 

I dare say that my father has long since forgotten this little incident. It was 
so natural with him, and so many similar ones might be cited in his case, that 
he probably did not think of it again. But the landing of the Pilgrims on our 
shores with hymns and prayers was not more characteristic of the good old- 
fashioned faith that peopled this Western World. The Bible belief in Prov- 
idence and Social Justice was innate with my father. He never forgot to ask 
God for daily bread, and, although himself an example of providence in caring 
for his family, he never omitted the grateful acknowledgement of grace at meal 
time, or failed to gather his family about him to petition Divine protection 
when we all lay down to slumber. 

My father was not a lover of luxury. Plainness and simplicity character- 
ized his dress and deportment as did candor and directness his thoughts and utter- 
ance. Naturally democratic, he hated sham and style.  Instinctively just, he 
detested false-dealing and cruelty. He could be stern and unyielding himself in 
the cause of truth and righteousness. He was methodical in his life and _ belief. 
Energy and enthusiasm were his natural moods, though when thwarted by the 
carelessness or cunning of others, he sometimes gave up to despairing moods of 
gloom. His imagination was like that of Israel, ‘‘clear and sober.”’ God and 
Duty were his watchwords and the keynote to his character. The story of his 


life of sacrifice and service is none the less glorious that it is one among many in 
the retired walks of men. 


ito (pti Valsts 1G)e oi bin ta Beved ig hia 1 


AN ABRAHAMIC HOME 


These fine qualities that my father possessed are possible of explanation. 

He was a genuine Saxon who, as Edmund Demolins says, “‘is a born farmen 

ter tn patie settles urmly on thevsoil;* which® he proceeds) to” clear, and “till, 
and fixes his dwelling in the midst thereof. His idea is the foundation of a 
rural estate on which the individual is perfectly independent of his neighbors and 
of the political chiefs.” 

It was from this hardy, industrious, independent race that my father was 
descended. His attachment to the soil was remarkable. His farm was the 
smallest in the community around, and yet not one was better kept or so 
abounded in the proverbial milk and honey. Surely none more truly illustrated 
the patriarchal home of old. He was sovereign of this little realm, which, as 
Renan says of the Abrahamic household, ‘‘was a virtuous selection amidst a world 


, 


of violence.’ 





PETER CORTELYOU (1796-1879) 


Old Sunday School Teacner of the Rule Brothers at Ten Mile 
Run School House, New Brunswick Presbytery, New Jersey. 


It was good to dwell in the midst of that peaceful habitation. The father 
toiled six days in the week and rested the seventh. -Not a beast was over- 
burdened, not a man or maid mistreated, and all these had their freedom on 
Sundays and holidays, and at other times if they so desired, or if it was neces- 
sary. Everything was done systematically and on time. Everything had its 
proper place and purpose. Law and order, promptitude and perseverance were 
watchwords amongst us. No partiality or preference was permitted. Man and 
beast, family and hireling were treated with humanity and kindness. No beggar 
was ever turned away empty handed; no homeless wanderer ever went elsewhere to 
ask a shelter for the night. Seated at the right hand of the good man of the 
house, he forgot his rags, and, looking into the face of the sweet mother in 
Israel, he remembered his own lost home life, and the dignity and independence 
of manhood of which misfortune had robbed him. 


20 HE AUtGh a piAK TE Res 


Pity for the poor was a passion with my father; and while self-reliant and 
independent, all the financial reverses we ever met with came because of noble 
benevolence that was taken advantage of by the cold and calculating world with- 
out. I may say, too, that to this material, economic cause I can trace the ser- 
pent of disappointment that blasted for me the Eden dreams of b‘ossoming man- 
hood, that cast a long and cheerless gloom over our home life and exacted of us 
a thankless tribute of toil and tears. It was but the inevitable clash of the 
good old-fashioned order with the new gain-seeking civilization of our own 
generation, and the certain swallowing up of. the former by the last-named. 


AN OLD TESTAMENT TYPE 


My father was an Old Testament type of believer. He regarded Cod as 
the Sovereign of the universe, whose hand dealth bountifully or sparingly with the 
children of men. ‘The elements of Nature were to him manifestations of Divine 
pleasure or disapproval, and it was his custom to acknowledge the Deity in all his 
undertakings. He was a utilitarian in his attitude toward Nature, believing im- 
plicitly in the old doctrine of creation by special act for a specific purpose. Such 
a philosophy was not then irrational and it certainly was rot irreverent. It was 
the secret incentive of Hebraic and Saxon industry and duty; and in this sense 
my father was a predestinarian. He was too generous-hearted a man ever to 
conceitedly imagine himself one of the elect while everybody else was left out; 
nor did he ever preach such a doctrine. 

He believed that God rewarded industry and fidelity, and that he punished 
indolence and moral remissness. It was his own experience that men prospered 
who had opportunity offered them and took advantage of it. He was reared in 
the earlier time when competition was not so sharp as now, and when men in the 
main made their money honestly; he was himself a workingman from his youth 
up and even down to his old age. His modest competence thus accumulated by 
handicraft toil paid for his education and ministerial training and later for the 
little farm upon which he lived and labored in the bosom of his family, while 
preaching the gospel to the regions round about. 

My father’s indignation knew no bounds whenever he was victimized by the 
base deviltry of the new school of trick in trade. A false balance was to him 
an abomination. He would rather give good measure, pressed down and run- 
ning over, that his neighbor might be satisfied, than to take advantage of him 
in a single farthing. But when he suspicioned that a man was trying to 
trick him, he resisted to the last ditch. His anger was glorious in such moral 
rebellion and reminded me of prophetic passion. He did not care the toss 
of a copper for the penny in dispute. It was the principle of the thing; and 
hence he became clearly and nobly imbued with the social vision of justice and 
righteousness in the economic problems and relations of our own time. 

Now it would be not only foreign to our purpose, but false, to affirm that 
this high character and principle manifest in my father was the result of his 
deep religious convictions only, unconnected with surrounding conditions and 
hereditary tendencies. We must remember that the Hebrew and Saxon owe 
their material and moral superiority in human history as well to the sane 
economic and moral life led by those races for centuries. Emerson says these 


JN Aspe nd SIERO) etS AMES Gave El We! aa 


people ‘‘value ideas only for an economic result;’’ and that all the political 
and religious struggles of English history meant primarily the assertion of a 
yeoman’s right to his dinner. Self-interest is the measure of a man’s con- 
scence under the modern economic system; and the Hebrew and Saxon have 
brought freedom to the world largely because they demanded and got it for 
themselves. But the two races which so enlarged the material and moral horizon 
of man through self-interest were likewise the first to discover the falsity of self- 
interest carried too far, and the truth of social unity. My father was a man 
who husbanded his present resources in order to live independently in future. 
There was not an atom of the speculator in his makeup. He was prudent and 
careful on a small capital; and the mighty superstructure of Modern Mammon 
appalled him. 





WILLIAM CHRISTIE (1799-1887) 


Hider in Second Presbyterian Church, Lexington, Kentucky, 

who organized the Young Men’s Prayer Meeting where John 

and Abram Rule and William Brown decided to enter the 
Presbyterian Ministry. 


Nervous energy was characteristic of my father and this energy was just as 
much at the disposal of a benevolent object as it was ready to do service 
for himself and his family. It enabled him to accomplish things that others deemed 
impossible, and the man who was such a model home-maker and farmer was equally 
admirable as a minister of the gospel and teacher of the community. He had 
settled down in the happy pastorate of an old-time Western community after 
the Civil War while yet many of the old patriarchal families were still living. 
He dreamed of spending his days in that peaceful rural community. He taught 
the local school. He was chaplain of the local Grangers, and his personality 
and sympathies were bound up with the tillers of the soil. He was a 
wonderful gardener. He introduced progress and blooded farm stock into 
the neighborhood; and he took a lively interest in fine fruits, besides planting 
one of the best vineyards of his vicinity. Never for a moment did he neglect 


22 (ROB GH Ie eo EAR ERs 


his study and work as preacher and pastor; on the contrary he was the ideal 
country minister. 

But when the older generation had passed away; when the local Grangers 
died down and the village Masonic lodge was dissolved; when the community 
academy had dwindled to minor numbers, my father’s heart-breaking expe- 
rience came in severing his relation as pastor of the dear old country church. 
We verily believe that a divorce from the wife of his youth would scarcely 
have been a greater tragedy to him. As long as he lived he always referred 
to it with a sigh. The fact was that the congregation had so dwindled in 
numbers that there was no longer adequate support for himself and his 
family; and the fields of gospel labor open to him were distant and unin- 
viting. My father was anything but a nomad. ‘The little farm held him 
with an irresistible ancestral love of the soil. So he opened a school in his 
own home for the education of his children and mounted his horse on Sunday 
to cover the entire county as a Presbyterian home mission, circuit rider. This 
work he continued for ten years and manifested the traditional virtues of a 
Hero of the Cross. 

- When the material cares of life pressed most heavily upon him _ he 
became most generous in his love for God and mankind. He sought out 
the propertyless tenantry, the hired labor class of the community, preached 
the gospel to them, built a school among them, and redeemed a _ whole 
strata of society from degradation and ruin. He did this without asking a 
penny, and his services in many other directions, toward equally benevolent 
ends, were given freely in the same manner. [I mention all this to show 
that I was never taught to look at religion, whether regarded as the worship 
of God or the service of my fellow men, from the material, selfish point of 
view. Religion was always a social thing with my father; and hence he 
found in his vision of social justice what a certain writer has called ‘‘the best 


and most pronounced element of religion, namely, loyalty to the higher and 
highest ideals.”’ 


ELEMENTAL MANHOOD 


I dwell on these phases of my father’s character, too, that I may show 
whence spring the moral qualities that make the world endure. His ‘‘aversion 
to sensual and reckless living.’’ His love of home life and native soil. His 
concrete view of holiness, justice, goodness and truth, and his exemplary 
manifestation of these in his daily converse and avocations, all this sprang 
not alone from his religion but also from good old Anglo-Saxon and Saxon 
ancestry. Taine says the Modern Englishman existed entire in the Saxon. The 
high qualities I have been enumerating existed also in the primitive Germans to a 
remarkable degree. 

‘In every country,’’ says Taine, ‘‘the body of man is rooted deep into 
the soil of nature; and in this instance (the Saxon) still deeper, because being 
uncultivated, he is less removed from nature.’ We have not’ the time or 
space to enter into this interesting analysis: hence we will only remark that 
this nearness to nature, this closeness to native soil, produced in our ancestors 
a freedom and dignity of manhood, a rough grandeur of character, a noble, 
elemental moral force that has remained to this day. St. Paul says the law 


Ae pAb Obes vine BAY LE jas: 


of God is written on the heart tablets of the uncorrupted children of nature. 
It was the old tribal constitutions of long ago, with their singularly just pro- 
visions for the material and moral welfare of the community, that made these 
primitive people so superior to the cunning, avaricious, gain-greedy classes 
of today. 

My father was a type of the elemental man; and if you can imagine a 
whole community governed according to these very rules of justice and right- 
eousness which were innate with him, then you can form some conception of 
the old tribal society of North Central Europe that overwhelmed the dissolute 
Roman civilization with but little effort. 





REV. ROBERT G. BRANK, D. D. (1824-1895) 


Pastor of the Rule Brothers in Lexington, Kentucky, at the 
Second Presbyterian Church, who deeply influenced them in 
preparing for the Presbyterian Ministry. 


ELEMENTAL RELIGION 


Now my father was personally, i. e., physically and mentally efficient 
or equal to every good word and work; nor did he fear the face of man. 
He was a lover of freedom and possessed such democratic instincts that I never 
in all my life saw him make a social distinction such as the so-called ‘‘superior 
classes’’ deem proper. Moreover, he possessed that Puritan instinct, yes, as a 
certain notable writer puts it, “‘that democratic instinct which regarded all 
public affairs as its own affairs.’ The Puritan minded his own individual 
business and suffered no interference therewith; but when the commonweal 
Was at issue, he not only resisted the self-constituted authority of kings and 
bishops but did so in the name of God and Duty. 

Of this same Saxon, Taine says: “‘His religion is already within him, 
as it will be in the sixteenth century, when he will cast off the sensuous 
worship of Rome and confirm the faith of the heart. His gods are not 
enclosed in walls; he has no idols.’’ Taine says further; “‘A race so con- 


24 THE GLGH TS BEARERS 


stituted was predisposed to Christianity, by its gloom, its aversion to sensual 
and reckless living, its inclination for the serious and sublime ___-__- They possessed 
the idea of God. This grand God of the Bible, omnipotent and unique, who 
disappears almost entirely in the middle ages______.. endures among them in 
spite of absurd and grotesque legends______- Their grandeur and their severity 
raise them to his high level________ More than any race in Europe, they approach 
by the simplicity and energy of their conceptions, the old Hebraic spirit. Enthu- 
siasm is their natural condition; and their new Deity fills them with admira- 
tion, as their ancient deities inspired them with fury. These men pray 
with all the emotion of a new soul; they kneel; they adore____Conscience, 
like all things, has its poem; by a natural invasion the all-powerful idea of 
justice overflows from the soul, covers heaven and enthrones there a new Deity. 
who is scarcely like the calm intelligence which serves philosophers to explain 
the order of things; nor to that tolerant deity, a kind of constitutional king, 
whom Voltaire discovered at the end of a chain of argument_____ [istisseche 
just Judge, sinless and stern, who exacts of man a strict account of his visible 
actions and of all his invisible feelings____ Now when we speak of justice it 
is no longer a lifeless phrase which we repeat, but a living idea which we 
produce; man sees the object which it represents, and feels the emotion which 
it summons y Ups “These words justus and justitia Dei,’ says Luther, ‘were 
thunder to my conscience. | shuddered to hear them. I told myself if God is 
just, he will punish me.’ ”’ 

In these latter days when the old standards of morality and religion have 
been undermined by the new economic order, which seems so regardless of God 
and man, it is hard for men of the world to realize the tremendous moral 
impetus once supplied by the grand though gloomy theology of our fathers. 
To a sensitive, timid soul like my own that theology came with a solemn 
and momentous meaning, exciting my fears as the thought of law and authority 
often does the most innocent. At this distance from the age of Luther and 
Calvin such a religion may seem to some almost superstitious. But I am glad 
and grateful that I saw this faith in its rare beauty and sincerity. Its results 
were found in the flower and fruit of holy living. My father, a just and right- 
eous man, believed in the old theology with all the enthusiasm of an ardent 
soul, and his vision of social justice, so clear and unanswerable, had the sanction 


of the God he adored. 


CHAPEE Rev IT 


Che Solitary Carch 


BY 


HE story of this grand old country minister, the Solitary Torch, 
disclosed heroic traditions of Presbyterian history and Masonic 
memories that stir the heart to recall. He was a Covenanter of 
the highest type descended also from an old Scotch family of Roman 

origin as far back as the Ninth century when St. Regulus is said to have taken 
refuge at St. Andrews, the ancient city of Scotland. 

Tradition says the good Roman brought some of the bones of St. Andrew 
with him to Scotland. However, an ocean cave still bears his name as a 
place of refuge; and in the later centuries, when the old church of St. Regulus 
was shaken by the revolutionary upheaval of John Knox, the slumbering fire of 
freedom blazed out once more in the hearts of the people. Pastor Rule lighted 
his Solitary Torch from the same ancestral fire. It was indeed a holy altar. 

Among the treasured traditions of Princeton University is the story of a 
strong-minded Scotch Presbyterian minister by the name of John Witherspoon. 
who came over to teach and train the youth of America when the gathering 
storm of our first revolution was about to burst. The story is that one Satur- 
day night in February, 1762, a company of high-spirited young men in 
the Scottish town where the young pastor lived got on a lark together at 
their club or rooms and were reported to have held a mock communion service 
in their drunken revelry. 

This report, though quite probable, was not fully confirmed. Yet it 
gave such a shock to the moral sense of the community that zealous young 
Pastor Witherspoon followed it with a powerful sermon, which he shortly pub- 
lished together with the names of the alleged offenders. This injudicious action 
aroused the accused parties to such a pitch of excitement that they immediately 
brought suit against the young pastor for slander; and he, being unable to 
confirm the report with facts, was compelled to make remuneration in heavy 
damages. 

Influential friends came to his relief, of course; but he left Scotland for 
America, under the burden of debt and in bitterness of spirit. He reflected that 
the blasphemous conduct of the idle well-to-do had a deeper social cause, and 
when he became president of Princeton College he soon took sides with the 
American people in their revolt against the privileged upper classes of Old Eng- 
land. Furthermore, President Witherspoon’s tolerance and patience and sym- 
pathy with young men became a cherished tradition at the college. He drew 
thither some of the finest young men from Virginia and the South, and 
Princeton was a great stronghold of freedom in the darkest days of the Revo- 
lution. Though his former country-men branded him a traitor and a rebel, the 
name of John Witherspoon heads the list of New Covenanters who led our 
first great national struggle for freedom. Many of the Old Covenanters were 


26 ‘LHE #liIGH LIB EARERS 


devoted Freemasons and President Witherspoon himself a devoted member of 
the Masonic order in America. He stood firmly with Franklin, Washington, 
Jefferson and other Masonic advocates of human liberty, and he held aloft 
the Torch of Truth with heroic courage so long as he lived. 

Thousands of disinherited toilers followed the great preacher-patriot to 
the New Land of Promise beyond the sundown seas. Among them were the 
Rules. Family tradition says two English miners of the name, brothers, came 
to America in time to be on the right side in our first revolution. Though 
digging coal in the bowels of the earth for a starvation wage, the proud 
Scotch spirit was not subdued. But it was sometimes drowned by intoxicating 
drink, and it was this deeper social aspect of the problem of intemperance that 
opened the eyes of President Witherspoon and made him a more intelligent, 
tolerant fighter for social justice. 





REV. SAMUEL DAVIES 


Great Preacher and Princeton College President in Colonial 
times, whose story and sermons molded the character and 
ideals of John Rule as a student of Princeton Seminary. 


The old farmhouse where the two Rule brothers lived stood near Prince- 
ton, N. J., on a hill .with tall lombardy ‘poplars’ about: it “Charles Rute 
a son of one of these two brother emigrants, married and had issue, says the 
family chronicle. Peter, Andrew, John and Sarah were the names of his 
children. There was a little village between, where there was a tavern, and 
the farmers’ sons were drawn thither after toil to indulge in the social glass. 
The sore effect of this indulgence was felt in nearly every family. 

Now, there lived in the same community an orphan girl by the name 
of Helena Voorhees. She was beautiful, with that serious cast of countenance 
seen in old Dutch portraits. She had a brother Henry and three sisters with 
old-fashioned names, Letitia, Sarah Ann and Harriet. Helena, another Greek 
feminine name for Light, grew up at her grandfather's, more lovely each 
year. ‘They were honest, hardworking Dutch fo!ks, who still spake the mother 
tongue and lived rather to themselves. Henry joined the young men at the 


DLPATHABR ‘OP eCHEARAITH 27 


tavern. Letitia married a sober, successful man. Sarah Ann and. Harriet 
never knew the solace of love and home, but made their living as sewing 
women. 

Now, John Rule, a handsome and intelligent young wagonmaker, fell in 
love with the beautiful Helena and was married to her when she was yet 
a young girl cf eighteen. John’s one weakness was for the good fellowship 
of the tavern, and as his growing family increased, this indulgence became a 
serious matter with the young wife and mother. He was a good-hearted man 
and therein lay his chief temptation. There was never an unkind word from 
his lips. He was patient, uncomplaining, fun-loving, and far too easy with 
those who owed him for work at the shop. As a consequence the family 
suffered. 





REV. JOHN WITHERSPOON 


Great Scotch Preacher and President of Princeton College in 

the American Revolution. His story and tradition also deeply 

influenced the life and ministry of John Rule as a Seminary 
Student. 


In this emergency the stern, ancestral Dutch determination of the Voor- 
hees asserted itself in the young wife and mother. She became a devout Pres- 
byterian and reared her children with heroic regard for their future. She had 
a beautiful voice and taught every one of them to sing. She made them each 
the subject of special prayer, with a view to their conversion, and lived to see 
every one of them a child of God. Within the sacred shadow of Old Prince- 
ton College she made her vow and covenant with the most high, like Hannah 
of old; and her latest born sons were twin children. given to God from the 
cradle. Pastor Rule was one of these. 

“My mother was a woman of the strongest character imaginable,’’ he 
would say. ‘‘She taught us to be truthful by opening the Bible on her knee 
and making us read that terrible passage in Revelations: ‘All liars shail have 
their part in a lake which burneth with fire and brimstone.’ She taught us 
to''be just and righteous through faith in the Son of God, and told us that 
if we did not do right we could never follow her to heaven above when death 
came. 


28 RHE EIGHT bEARERS 


The just and holy God of Sinai was enthroned in her heart and home, 
and the young mother was high priestess to the same. The husband and father 
was negative and silent on the subject of religion. He but rarely attended the 
services of the sanctuary. Family tradition veils in silence that hidden domestic 
tragedy. Never a word of reproach or disrespect to her companion pilgrim 
escaped the lips of Helena Rule; and never a syllable of criticism or unkindness 
was ever uttered by the husband and father. But both their hearts bled in 
secret, each yearning for a better understanding, a deeper love, but unable to 
bridge the yawning gulf between. Somehow, it was not in the old, austere 
rel'gion to yield or reconcile without absolute surrender and self-abasement; and, 
somehow, it was not in the young wagonmaker to acknowledge his sin and 
throw himself upon the mercy of the Most High, as his wife so earnestly 
desired. 

Hence, it was that the Solitary Torch of Pastor Rule, lighted at the solemn 
ancestral altar, burned in the surrounding darkness like a Druid torch of old. 
In his religious faith fire was a primeval, purifying element, burning out the 
dross of sin and consuming the soul of the utterly worthless and unworthy. 
Likewise, there was something of terror at sight of his torch, uplifted, fearless, 
forward-moving in the face of any foe. Pastor Rule was the son of his mother 
in resolute integrity and determination. When he recognized a truth he acknowl- 
edged and published it abroad, freely, generously, gladly. He never bought 
or bartered it. That would have been a sacrilege deserving the punishment 
meted out to liars in the terrible lake. On the contrary, when truth was an 
outcast stranger amongst the sons of men, born in the lowly hovel of toil and 
sorrow and shame, Pastor Rule gathered it up in his strong arms and gave it 
nurture and name and acknowledgment, shielding and defending it until lo, 
the shining angel of God stood by him with benediction and abiding glory. 
With long life she satisfied him, and he never saw his seed forsaken or his chil- 
dren begging bread. 


GAP TERS VILE 


Alestmard in the Pikties 
= > 


Y father’s elder brother, Uncle Peter Rule, used to tell the story 

of how the family came West to Kentucky in the fifties. 
“It was not alone in the days of Daniel Boone,’’ said he ‘‘that 
Kentucky was looked to in the Eastern States as a desirable sec- 
tion in which to locate for the purpose of repairing one’s broken 
fortunes. For, although the great tide of emigration after pioneer times turned 
toward the Northwest, Kentucky continued to receive hundreds of families from 
New England and the Middle States almost up to the beginning of the Civil War, 
and the result of their experiment in a change of homes was more prosperous than 

that of thousands who went to the free prairie country. 

“Among the Eastern emigrants to Kentucky in those early days was a 
man by the name of John Armstrong. He lived near Princeton, New Jersey, 
and had married one of the Rule sisters. Desiring to see the new Land 
of Promise in the West, he had his brother-in-law, John Rule, make him a 
wagon, put his young wife and child into it, with some household necessities, 
and drove the entire distance, settling in Lincoln county, Kentucky. 

“When the child, whose name was William, grew to manhood, he began a 
correspondence with his New Jersey relatives, whom he had never seen. His 
letters were answered by a sprightly young girl, Elizabeth Rule, who was his 
first cousin. In due season imagination and sentiment began to creep into the 
young man’s heart and he procured a miniature of the fair correspondent. 

‘“Thus it was that he traveled back to his native State about the fall of 
1848; and one afternoon when the little twin boys of the Rule family got 
home from school they were told that their cousin, William Armstrong, from 
Kentucky, had come to visit his people. Cousin William was a tall, fine-look- 
ing young man and the boys overheard several earnest conversations between 
him and their mother about first cousins marrying. She took the ground 
that it was contrary to the scripture and the laws of good health, and the 
young man was on his mettle to meet such intelligent reasons from his aunt, 
she being well read in the Bible, Josephus, and similar books. 

“William and Elizabeth seemed quite anxious for a week or more as 
they grew fonder of each other, but the young man prevailed in his suit, so 
that good old Pastor Comfort came to tie the knot in approved Presbyterian 
style, and another happy pair wended their way to the far-off West. 

“In the course of a year Elizabeth returned to visit her family, and while 
in New Jersey told them how much easier it was to live in Kentucky. The 
price of eggs, flour, butter, meat and other necessities proved very tempting 
to the large and struggling household, and so they decided to go in the spring 


BEALS .0; 
“Mother Rule’s health had been badly broken, so that the boys rarely 


30 PH yin Grea Di Alcers 


saw her when she was not suffering. Many times she would be propped up 
in bed with a chair and pillows and cough nearly all night. One physician 
after another treated her, but with small benefit. So that the change to 
Kentucky was contemplated in part for her good, and she seemed braced up to 
undertake the journey when the time came. [They had been moving from one 
little farm to another with no increase of finance, and she faced the West with 
new hope for her husband and children. It was determined that she should 
go with the first group and the husband would follow within a year when 
he had sufficient time to see how the new climate agreed with her and also to 
dispose of their small property to advantage. 

“The Eastern States seventy years ago were much like the countries of 
the Old World. Employment could be had, but there were so many appli- 
cants for every position that remuneration was greatly reduced; and it was only 
by apprenticing a lad and making him serve several years at nearly nothing, 
that he could be set up in any business whatsoever. 





House and Carriage Shop, Lexington, Ky., where the 
Rule Brothers lived and worked. 


“I was such an apprentice,’’ continued Uncle Peter, telling the story as 
he smoked and chuckled with good humor over his reminiscences of the trip 
West. “I was working in a factory in New Brunswick, and although I 
stuck to my job faithfully there was but little promise of promotion or 
financial success. Jersey State had some mighty fine folks, but a boy away 
from home don’t fare so well as when mother is around. People will be 
penurious and selfish when they can take it out on a smali boy. 

“One day when I was a very small shaver, I was over at our neighbor’s, 
who was a baker. He wished to borrow some heavy articles that he needed 
about his shop, and he called out: 

“Here, Peter, do this for me and you shall have a cooky!’ 


AW DSUat IR hee (O)s 6 MSIE eye U Nh) g oH 


“IT ran all the way and in about an hour returned puffing and perspir- 
ing with my heavy burden. He took it without a word of thanks, and although 
I stood around the bake shop all afternoon, my mouth watering and my 
stomach gnawing with hunger for that promised cooky, he said to me about 
sunset: 

‘“ "Well, Peter, you’d better run along home now, feed the pigs and milk 
the cow!’ 

“It is a bad beginning to break faith with a child. The injustice of 
that act stuck to me when I went out into the cold world to work, and 
when I later began to see the competition of trade making the prospect of 
remuneration in the factory scarcely less gloomy than it had been with the 
miserly, stingy baker, I anxiously inquired about the West from every passing 
traveler. 


“They all said Kentucky was the state for them. Wages were fine and 
the people were noted for their kindness and hospitality to the stranger and 
emigrant, like all new communities. When our sister, Elizabeth, confirmed this 
report, we were all ready to move.” 


Uncle Peter refilled his pipe, settled himself more comfortably in his big 
rocking chair and resumed: 


“It takes twenty-four hours to come from New York to Louisville by rail 
now. ‘Then it required more than a week to make the trip. The way was 
to go through Philadelphia to Johnstown by rail, thence by canal and stage to 
Pittsburgh, and then down the Ohio river by steamboat to Louisville. 

“No route of travel in this country has been so amusingly celebrated in 
the writings of American and European tourists as this famous one to the West 
in the early days. Some of the most noted foreign literary men used to 
make the circuit of the Union that way just to gather material for a humorous 
narrative. ‘The laughable part of it was the primitive traveling facilities. We 
took the train at Philadelphia, and after passing Harrisburg, came to the foot 
of the mountain range of the Alleghanies. The train was pulled up car 
by car minus the engine, by an engine on the mountain top with a cable. 
Then by train to Johnstown. 

“The ludricrous side of the journey began when we took the canal boat 
at Johnstown for Pittsburgh. Each of these boats had a capacity for carrying 
comfortably about twenty-five people; but in those days never less than thirty- 
five or forty were on them at once, and sometimes even forty-five or fifty. 
They looked like the family boats on the Ohio river today, only much larger, 
and were pulled by three horses on the tow-path along the shore. They were 
kept in midstream by a fellow on the stern with a big paddle. 

“There were two lines of these boats, “The Express’ and ‘The Pioneer,’ 
the first being a little more respectable and higher priced than the latter. 
By this route all Yankees went to the Ohio and Mississippi Valleys. It was 
also the thoroughfare for thousands of emigrants who did not go West by the 
way of New Orleans. 

“You can be sure that we struck a crowd coming out. The first thing 
when we got aboard at Johnstown was to find every seat taken and hardly space 
to sit down on the floor. “The cabin was packed with people, the roof filled 


a SPHE. SIGE Rae Ear he 


with luggage, and the deck swarming with boys and men who could get no- 
where else. 

“It was nightfall when we started and we did not expect to reach 
Pittsburgh for two days. We were crowded out everywhere. Peeping into 
the cabin, one could see eight or ten tables along the walls, which were set 
together in the middle of the room about six o'clock and prepared for supper. 
The passengers acted like hungry hogs expecting their food as the dishes were 
put on the table. Some stationed themselves behind the stools and chairs on 
each side of the room, while others, less fortunate, crowded about the door 
at each end of the boat to await the signal to sit down. At the first sound 
of the gong a wild scramble began for places. It reminded me of an old 
chair game we boys and girls used to play called ‘Going to Jerusalem,”’ in 
which there is one chair less than there are persons in the game and where 
several grab the same seat. 

“The supper consisted of bread and butter, several kinds of fish, sausage, 
steak, potatoes, pudding and syrup, served each in one large dish, instead of in 
modern restaurant style of little dishes. And when the fellows who failed 
to get seats at the first table hung around the doors with a gloomy expression, 
as they watched the ravenous eaters devouring everything before them, one of 
the boat’s officials would yell out: 

‘“*Hold on, now, all of ye! They’s a plenty, ef yell only wait!’ 

“Finally we satisfied the inner man and went out on deck again to in- 
spect with absorbing interest the different types of people, and listen to the 
story-tellers on every hand. I vow and declare to you I never sat down on 
a stool or chair during the entire trip except at meal time. 

“Between nine and ten o'clock in the evening there was another great 
commotion inside the cabin and it was announced that the passengers were to 
draw lots for berths. The berths were what a noted English traveler called 
‘book-shelves along the walls,’ suspended by ropes from the ceiling. The 
ladies’ apartment was in one end of the boat and the gentlemen’s in the other, 
and the excitement over the drawing of tickets for places was so intense that 
it almost exceeded the hog scramble for supper. As usual, a great many were 
left in the lurch, some of us among the number. These unfortunates took 
possession of the chairs and tables, and when they had all been brought into use 
there were yet others seeking places, so we went out on the deck and slept on 
the floors. 

“About five-thirty o'clock next morning the officials of the boat aroused 
everyone, and there was another scramble as to which would get to use the 
wash basin first. They used canal water, and an ordinary bucket served as a 
pitcher. They had a revolving towel upon which to dry themselves, finishing 
their toilet with one comb and brush, chained for public use under a small 
mirror. Some of the passengers were so angry at getting left in the scrimmage 
over the wash basin that they dispensed with their ablutions altogether.’’ 

Uncle Peter was so full of laugh for a few moments that he could 
scarcely resume his jolly reminiscence of the trip; but directly he continued: 

“The same bill of fare was repeated at breakfast, accompanied by the same 
mad, hoggish crowding together about the tables and doorways, the official 
yelling out at the top of his lungs. 


eee Whine Oba wie ate 33 


4eé 


‘Stan’ back, gen’lemen! They’s a plenty for everyone of ye!’ 

‘There were some amusing specimens on the boat, from the unsophisticated 
New England rustic to the consequential fellow who found fault with every- 
thing and proclaimed around that he was so and so. But really this growler 
was a public benefactor, oftentimes; because the canai officials, wishing to 
make as much profit as possible, would continually crowd a boat like that one 
on which we took passage; and, unless there was someone determined enough 
to make a protest, the traveling public fared miserably for accommodations. 

“We reached Pittsburgh about six o'clock on the morning of the second 
day after we left Johnstown. 

“Pittsburgh was then the city of smoke in the ‘strictest sense; and this added 
to our eager desire to by all means enjoy berths and seats on the steamboat 
to Louisville. I hustled about to find the first one leaving, and by ten o'clock 
that morning we-had passage engaged and our luggage on deck. 

“In early days there were two classes of boats on the Ohio, as well as 
on the canal, the fine mail and passenger line, and the emigrant and freight 
steamers. The latter class was cheaper in its rates, went all the way to Louis- 
vil'e, instead of making the passengers change boats at Cincinnati, and carried 
the greater part of the shipping between the East and West. It was on one 
of these boats that we embarked for Kentucky, and although it was not every- 
thing to be desired, we found ourselves infinitely more comfortable than we 
had been on the canal. 


“The emigrants on the steamer were an interesting people. Some of 
them could afford to take a berth, and pay for meals in the cabin; but others 
who could not, stayed night and day with their household effects down on 
the lower deck. There were sharpers and swindlers perpetually present to trick 
them out of their money, and it was irritating to see how easily they fell into 
these traps for the inexperienced and trustful rustic folks. 


“Our boat reached Louisville four days after leaving Pittsburgh and we 
hired a carriage and driver to take us through to Springfield, Kentucky, pay- 
ing five dollars apiece. The entire trip had cost us about thirty dollars each. 


“You may be sure we were pleased with the country and also the people 
The difference between Old Jersey and Kentucky at that time was marked. 
The peculiar soft accent of the Southern folk struck me as singular, but the 
proverbial hospitality of the people carried our hearts captive at once, and made 
us feel more like we were returning to the home of our childhood than leaving 
it to find refuge and work in another part of the nation. In a year or two 
you could not have told us from the native-born Southerners.”’ 


The Rule brothers made the Masonic motto of Old Kentucky their own: 
“United We Stand—-Divided We Fall.’ They stood together as apprentices 
learning the carriage-making trade, and their shop was unionized on _ the 
principle of Brotherly Love. Song and laughter resounded with the stroke of 
the hammer and the rasp of the saw. The elder brothers became Freemasons 
and were an honor to the craft by their industry and character. People pointed 
them out as conspicuous examples of success; and even in the midst of an 
aristocratic, slave-holding community they made manual labor respectable and 
remunerative. 


GHAR TER ex 


Msi 


OFTEN asked my father to relate the story of his own conversion 
and call to the Gospel ministry, and one day while we were in 
Danville together the good minister went out for a stroll with me, 
talking quietly as we went along from street to street, pointing 
out now and then a house or location connected with the narrative. 

“When our family came to Kentucky ten years before the Civil War, we set- 
tled at the little town of Perryville,’’ said he. ‘‘A small flour and wool-carding 
mill was purchased for our parents and three brothers to conduct at Pleasant Run, 
near Springfield, in Washington County. I was then a lad of fourteen or 
fifteen years and [I found similar employment with Uncle William in the woolen 
mill at Perryville, where the great battle was afterwards fought. 

“The gradual emancipation law with reference to negro slavery was still oper- 
ative in New Jersey during my boyhood there, so that I was not a stranger to 
human bondage when I came to the South. I saw a slave gang driven through 
from Danville to Perryville, but the prevalence of the institution did not arouse 
my sense of injustice as a youth. Slavery existed in its mildest form at that 
time in Kentucky. Besides, my twin brother, Abram, and I were hard working 
lads who had but little leisure for reflection on anything but our own personal 
tasks. It was many years later, under entirely different conditions, that my so- 
cial awakening came. 


“T used to get up at 5 o'clock every morning and work until half-past 7 
at night, with but fifteen minutes for meals. In the summer time we would 
often walk two miles into the country hunting apples. Thus there was very 
little time for play and pleasure in my life, and it made me a serious, earnest- 
minded man. Order and duty were my watchwards. I never idled away a 
moment, although possibly my nature might have been enriched by some recre- 
ation mingled with industry. 


‘“‘As it was my thoughts turned early to religion. There was a revival meeting 
in progress at the Presbyterian church that season and I became very much in- 
terested in the young people who responded to the invitation from night to 
night. One evening I alone of the household attended and returned after the 
family had retired. The next morning at breakfast I was telling who went 
forward. 


“And did you go, John?’ asked Uncle William, kindly. 


“I was silenced at once. I began thinking and saw that I had a personal 
interest in the matter. I went forward that evening or the next, and when my 
brothers, Abram, Schenck, and my sister Mary, came to Uncle William's they 
said they were not going to let the youngest stand alone for God. So they 
came into the Kingdom with me. 


at 15 MsIe (OE a aelse ie. Mel 35 


“Some time after this (in the fall of 1853) we brothers moved to Lexington 
and opened a carriage shop, each one having a special part of the work to do. 
I was cook and housekeeper for them all. I arose at 4 o'clock in the morning, 
went to the market, and had the breakfast dishes washed and put away by the 
time to open shop. ‘These young mechanics were very much interested in self- 
improvement. A literary and debating society was organized amongst us, and 
we twin brothers, Abram and I, attended the old Second Presbyterian church 
regularly. 

“But few church officers led in public prayer at that time, and some of the 
members proposed a young men’s prayer meeting to train the growing youth 
in spiritual expression. When they had sufficient experience the pastor would 
enter the Wednesday evening meeting and tap this one or that on the shoulder, 
saying: 





OLD CENTRE COLLEGE, DANVILLE, KY. 


PM som 


John, I will call upon you tonight.’ 

“Tt was a trying ordeal at first, but an elder of prominence, Mr. Christie, 
took a great personal liking to us twin brothers and encouraged us to study for 
the Presbyterian ministry. The pastor supplemented this appeal and we two 
young men entered college together at Danville. 

‘The years spent in the shop at Lexington were very happy times for us 
brothers, and we separated with great regret. My brother Abram and I were 
about eighteen years of age when we decided to study for the ministry. Abram 
was full of life and fun and had an idea that he was making a mistake to enter 
a calling which seemed to him altogether sacred and dignified, little dreaming 
that he was of all young men most fitted by reason of his genial,) social 
disposition. The last time he came home he made some remark about his un- 
fitness, such was the prevalent conception of the solemnity becoming a preacher 
of the Gospel. 


36 THES GIG DEAK ERs 


“But the ties of brotherhood and friendship held him to his vow. It 
chanced that another young man, William Brown, in the prayer meeting had 
been moved by the Spirit of God to follow our example, and, having become 
intimate associates in pursuit of our studies together, he went with us to the 
old college at Danville.’’ 

We had come to the end of a street east of town where, looking down a 
sloping hillside, my father pointed out a house with a history. His voice 
dropped into a quiet, reverent tone as he continued: 

“Early in May, 1860, Abram ‘went “over to Lexington, on 2 iittlesyicm 
home. He was not feeling well and returned to Danville considerably indis- 
posed. Several days later he came from college and shortly after dinner was 
taken with a violent chill. He thought it was a cold, put his feet in hot 
water and went to bed, covered up warmly. We were boarding at a physician's 
house out there and Abram took some medicine that seemed what he needed, 
hoping to be out again in a few days without doubt. 





Left to Right—John Rule, William Brown and Abram 
V. Rule, twin brother of John Rule, Old Centre students 
in the class of ’61, who figured in the tragic story of the 
present chapter 


“Noticing a rash breaking out on his body, Abram thought he had 
measles, and, consulting the physician about it, was treated for that disease. 
The rash soon disappeared and the doctor told him he would be all right in a 
few days. But on the morning of May 15 a severe hemorrhage puzzled and 
alarmed Abram and me. We were in complete ignorance as to what this danger- 
ous symptom meant. 

“The doctor had gone to the country expecting to return at noon. He 
reached home at that hour and [ went out to meet him as he was dismounting 
from his horse. He was much worried at the tidings of his patient and came 
into the house hurriedly. As dinner was ready he proposed that I should eat 


Ne Jot Qmbele TOlyi eg Nels, Javed ihe ny! 


while he went up to see Abram. You can well imagine that it was a brief and 
unrelished meal upon my part. Directly, as I was hastening back to my brother's 
room, I met the doctor on the stairway with a pained and anxious expression. 
Said he: 

“ “John, if you have any word to send to your friends, send it at once. 
Your brother cannot live but a few hours.’ 

“For the first time I understood that my brother Abram was dying of 
typhoid fever. We sent hurried communications to the family and friends by 
special couriers. Our bosom friend was soon at hand, William Brown, you 
know. Abram read on the anxious faces about him that his last hour was at 
hand though he, too, was completely unprepared for so fatal a turn to his 
illness. 

“Is my condition so serious as that?’’ he asked. 


See 


> 


. 


, 





L. W. GREEN (1806-1863) 


President of Old Centre College, who directed the education 

of John and Abram Rule at Danville. Dr. Green died a 

martyr of the Civil War ministering to the sick and wounded 
at Danville after the Battle of Perryville. 


“ “Yes, Abram,’ answered William, with tear-filled eyes and voice choking 
with grief. ‘The doctor says you can live but a short while and I am tell- 
ing you in time to make any preparations you may desire.’ 

““Ah,’ said Abram with a sigh, ‘the sun of my life is going down.’ 

“Outside the great sun was sinking slowly toward the western hills, while 
the birds caroled sweetly their evening song. Abram motioned William and me 
to his bedside. Said he, feebly: 

“Oh, sing to me of heaven, 

When I am called to die.’ 

“Stepping back a pace, William and I managed to murmur the first stanza 
of this old favorite from the Wesley hymnal. Then he signaled us to stop. 
We approached the bedside once more and he said: 

“ “Ah, I did not think I was so near my Father’s house.’’ 


38 Saal Grd dame boris ten 


“Thus he fell asleep forever on earth. He died at sunset and shortly 
afterward the relatives and friends began to come. My eldest sister arrived first. 
The people of the town, the college faculty and the student body were astounded 
at the sad tidings, never dreaming that their favorite and popular companion was 
so ill. During the night the family from Lexington reached the house. Next 
day the college president, assisted by the students, conducted a brief and touch- 
ing service before the departure for Lexington, where Abram’s pastor, Rev. Mr. 
Brank, laid him away in his final resting place. 

“T graduated from Old Centre in the class of ’61, when the storm of 
civil war was sweeping down over the land. Some of my classmates left at once 
for distant battlefields, never to return. I was a man of peace and did not 
believe in bloodshed. So I continued to pursue my studies for the ministry under 
Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge at Danville until the blood-tide swept nearer and 
nearer to the little town. The old college was loyal to the Union, although, 
with a large part of the students, my sympathies were with the South. 

“The Battle of Perryville was fought in October, ’62, and the homes, 
churches and college buildings at Danville were soon crowded with the wounded, 
sick and dying soldiers, three thousand in number. Day and night President 
Lewis Green of Old Centre ministered to the limit of his strength among the 
suffering. The atmosphere round about his residence was pestilential and in the 
spring, on a May morning, he, too, was smitten with the same dread malady 
that had cut down his beloved young pupil three years before. It was a crush- 
ing blow. I naturally sought refuge from these scenes of desolation and death 
in the quiet walls of Old Princeton Seminary, New Jersey, not far from my 
old home and birthplace.”’ 

Both father and son brushed the tears away from their eyes, then slowly 
turned again into town. What was it in the soft atmosphere and the tranquil 
peace of the scene that entered into the soul of the young man, calling him to 
take the place of the long-dead Abram? It was the still small voice that speaks 
in all ages to the heart of youth, saying, ‘‘Arise, there is need of thee.’’ The 
father said not a word, but waited. And God always has His own purpose of 
fulfillment. 


Grille e hae. 





‘ 1% LF 4» , 
Che Mantle of Llijoh 
ces: i / > 
S a schoolboy in the Old South years after the Civil War I was very 
fond of biography and history. Born and brought up under the 
shadow and tradition of Negro slavery and the great struggle over 
its abolition, my social conscience was stirred thereby from my 
twelfth year. My sympathies from the first were with the Emancipators but 
not the Abolitionists. In that I was truly Southern. 

During my freshman year at Old Centre College I was forced, all un- 
willingly, to take the side of the slave in a debate on the question, ‘Resolved, 
that the Negro has suffered more at the hands of the White Man than has the 
Indian.’’ The negative side, under the leadership of a shrewd young senior, so 
manipulated the question that my colleagues and I had the unpopular side, clear 
through. Both audience and judges were against us and the decision as well. 

But the social research that [ made on the subject of Negro slavery gave 
me a new vision and understanding of history and from that hour I became 
a lover of Lincoln and an unprejudiced defender of the Negro in his new-found 
freedom and struggle for existence. I never had any prejudice against the Indian. 
I was always on the side of the downmost man. 

My father was a skilled mechanic in the golden age of capital before the 
Civil War and a small farmer minister of the Presbyterian faith in the years 
succeeding the great strife: so that when the panic of ’93 hurled the American 
middle and working classes into the maelstrom of economic tragedy, we learned 
the hard lesson of social science in a way calculated to make an impression. 

But the Old South in those years was still dominated by the feudalistic and 
religious interpretation of historic change and the passage to a clear comprehension 
of economic problems was at best slow, painful and intensely personal. Hence 
I always felt a deep sympathy for those who must travel the same hard road 
from the House of Bondage; and my later researches into social history discovered 
and revealed to me a number of noble Forerunners in the great anti-slavery 
struggle. 

To the man who must take his stand on the outposts of Human Freedom 
it is a great encouragement and comfort to know something about the heroic 
sentinel and torch-bearer who watched there in the generation preceding. And 
the tragedy of religious history always is that the church does not recognize 
or acknowledge her prophets till they have been stoned, entombed and _ for- 
gotten or glorified by the world at large. 

Now the Calvinistic revolutionists were the clearest-headed thinkers of their 
age and the most fearless defenders of Freedom in the world. Nowhere was 
this truer than in America. They suffered all the perils and hardships endured 
by the social pioneers of our own day and are now justly regarded with a grati- 
tude the world will hereafter extend to the living advocates of Human Liberty 
and Social Progress. 


+0 DHE WEIGH gpa AR ERS 


There were two Presbyterian churches in the little college town. The pas- 
tor of the ‘‘Northern’’ church, as it was called, was a son of one of the Great 
Abolition Presbyterian Circuit Riders in Southern Indiana and in the custody 
of this same church were the minutes of the Old Salem Presbytery in Southern 
Indiana, within the bounds of which the great battle for human freedom was 
fought in the days of Lyman and Henry Ward Beecher. The whole territory 
of Southern Indiana was at one time a part of the Synod of Kentucky. Il 
attended this church for the most part out of a sense of loyalty to my country 
and the heroic Presbyterian traditions. 

But Dr. E. M. Green, the pastor of the Southern church, was an equally 
notable man. He was a tall, erect, dignified, courteous and exceedingly cul- 
tured and gentle soul. His magnificent hair and beard had the appearance and 
sweep of Michael Angelo’s Moses. He was a Carolinian and had been through 
the stress and sorrow of the long civil struggle. He was Southern in every 
fiber of his being, but he saw and acknowledged the hand of Providence in his- 
tory and pointed out the path of true progress to the young men coming after. 
He was in a peculiarly happy situation to heal and unite the hearts that were 
still sore over the great struggle. 

He was very fond of me because my father was a minister in the same 
Southern Church in Kentucky. He saw the promise of my youth and one day, 
following the debate at college, we met on the hill where the Old Church 
stands, massive, vine-clad and cathedral-like in its solemnity. It was a beautiful 
day, blue and cloudless above, green and glorious all around. Dr. Green had 
voted against the young debater at his side, but he had a lesson of history 
to communicate that would never be forgotten. This young man-~ was _ stand- 
ing hesitant between the gospel ministry and political life, wondering which were 
better? Possibly a word in season might prove a lamp to his feet and a light 
upon the pathway of his future. 

““When I was a little boy,’’ said Dr. Green, “I lived with my parents in a 
beautiful old Carolina home. It was a very romantic house and grounds and 
the days of childhood were happy beyond words to tell. I had a little brother 
as a playmate and I loved him as Jonathan did David. Life seemed to hold 
even greater happiness before us with such companionship possible. 

“But one day he sickened, lingered long weeks in agony and unconscious- 
ness and then died. The sunlight passed out of heaven for me. “The world 
was black and hopeless with Death. I brooded and mourned as one who would 
not be comforted. But when the little body was prepared and put into the 
casket and placed in the dimly-lighted old parlor, I waited with my grief-stricken 
parents in the room adjoining. Directly the front gate opened and a tall man 
in dark clothing came up the walk to the house. He was ushered into our 
presence. His words were few and kindly. Then he led me by the hand, my 
parents followed, into the parlor where the little casket stood. Kneeling down 
beside it and still holding my hand in his own, he made the most touching 
and beautiful prayer to God for us that I ever heard. It soothed our aching 
hearts like the balm of Gilead. Then he went away as quietly as he had come. 
But I said in my heart, then and there, that if such was the man of God, I 
would become a minister of the gospel when I grew up. That good man was 
the unconscious cause of my choosing the life work that I love so well. His 


mee ieee Gti ba tates soled 0 


mantle descended upon my shoulders when God called him home, and like Elisha, 
I have endeavored to minister as he did to the broken-hearted and sorrowing at 
a time that tried the souls of men.”’ 

We walked onward a few steps over the soft blue grass of the historic 
old cemetery surrounding the church. ‘‘There,’’ said Dr. Green, ‘‘is the grave 
of the great and good man who founded the Presbyterian Church in the wilder- 
ness of Kentucky one hundred years ago. When he first came to Danville, 
Boyle county was dark, wooded and shady all the way to Harrodsburg. 
Scarcely a gleam of sunlight could penetrate the heavy foliage. So Father Rice 
took as a text of his first sermon this verse: ‘The people which sat in darkness 
saw great light; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death, 
light is sprung up.’ So Father Rice was the light-bearer to the Kentucky 
wilderness. 

“The verse, you know, is from Matthew and refers to the beginning of 
the Master’s ministry among the lowly and neglected whom the temple and 
synagogue failed to reach. He gave his life for them. So it seemed that Father 
David Rice, whose ashes lie beneath us here, dedicated himself to the King- 
dom of God in the Kentucky wilderness when savage beasts and more savage 
men made life extremely perilous everywhere. The community was at a very 
low ebb morally. A little log church was built on the hill here at first. Later 
a little brick chapel was erected, siding on the street. [his was also a public 
meeting place. The first meeting to adopt the first constitution of Kentucky 
was held in that little brick church. It was there that the great struggle over 
Negro slavery, to keep it out of the constitution, began. Father Rice was a 
member of that convention, with several ministers of other denominations, one 
hundred years ago. They were a unit in favor of emancipation. Father Rice 
led the debate for the Emancipationists with cogent logic and powerful reasoning, 
and the cause was all but won, when the smooth-tongued politicians with their 
social prominence and sophistry, outwitted the humble, honest men of God 
and wrote slavery into the constitution of the first-born commonwealth of the 
Federal Union. 

“It was a tragedy of history. It was heart-breaking to Father Rice, who 
foresaw the Civil War as the final outcome just as clearly as those who lived 
a generation after. He spoke out strong against slavery. He hated it and penned 
and spoke the greatest utterance against slavery in all political literature twenty 
years before Abraham Lincoln was born. He denounced it as inconsistent with 
justice and social welfare when men were fighting for their lives in the Western 
wilderness. It made him unpopular, but he never flinched from his whole duty. 
He was equally opposed to French skepticism and the mad spirit of speculation 
and money-making which possessed the people like an evil spirit. They did not 
want their personal freedom interfered with and they were bitter against him 
for a while. They felt that in a new country he had no right to interfere. 

“His biographer tells us that he came to Kentucky with no intention of 
staying, but merely to make some provision for his increasing family. He was 
so disgusted with the spirit of speculation, which was shameless and brutal, that 
he went back to Virginia without purchasing an acre. The broad, rich and 
beautiful lands failed to tempt his investment until he was forced to purchase 
in support of his family. He did not have the money to pay cash down, but 


42 THE LIGHT BEARERS 


trusted to the promise of certain members of his congregation. But these prom- 
ises were forgotten and neglected and the payment of some of the claims after- 
ward fell due when the old minister had nothing with which to satisfy the law. 

“Te was still customary to imprison for debt and the sheriff held up the 
terror of imprisonment before the devoted old minister. He brooded over it 
until he was in a morbid mood of mind. He felt that the men who had 
promised to stand by him in the purchase of a home and land should stand 
by him, or their children. But it was too late; and he undertook to exclude 
them from the communion table. A sensation naturally ensued and Father Rice 
left Danville broken in spirit and poor as poverty. “Tom Johnson, the tipsy 
poet of the town, wrote a mock valedictory, which became the delight of the 
tavern crowd at their carousals. Naturally the bums and loafers hated the old 
emancipationist and preacher of righteousness, who had locked horns unsuccessfully 
with the politicians. And for the time his enemies triumphed completely. 

“Nearly seventy years afterward, when our two Synods of Kentucky were 
in session, the Northern here at Danville and the Southern at Harrodsburg, a 
committee was appointed to do justice to the name and memory of Father Rice 
and to locate his forgotten grave in Green county. I was to have charge of the 
work. Having in my possession a chart left by Father Rice’s family by which 
to find the grave, I took a wagon and workingmen with implements to dis- 
charge a solemn duty. It was the instruction of the two Synods that his 
precious ashes be recovered and brought back to Danville, the scene of his heroic 
ministry for Humanity and Freedom. 

“We spent the night with a man by the name of Worthington. Then 
we went way out in the hills. The soil was red and poor. Green county was 
an open country when Father Rice came to the State. You could see deer a mile 
off. Boyle county was all close woods, but the soil was later seen to be more 
fertile. Father Rice continued his work as an educator and minister among the 
pioneers of Green county till his death. He passed away June 16, 1816, in 
the eighty-third year of his age, his last words being, ‘Oh, when shall I be 
free from sin and sorrow?’ 

You may well imagine my feelings as I approached his last resting 
place. Following the chart, we first found a heap of dirt where the cabin 
chimney stood. We then walked slowly down to a spring and from that to 
a dogwood tree. There were two graves under this tree. Another big tree 
had grown down through the graves. Father Rice and his wife were both buried 
there. 

“We dug down and first came to a human bone. Then we found some 
teeth. We were exceedingly and reverently careful. It was precious dust we were 
disturbing. My heart failed me. We closed up the grave and returned home. 
I made my report to the Synod. But the Svnod insisted that the beloved ashes 
must be removed and placed where succeeding generations would honor the mem- 
ory of Father Rice. So we went back, dug down and secured every possible vestige 
of the remains and brought them here to Danville and deposited them beneath 
that marble monument erected to the Great Emancipator. 

‘There was an old lady still living at Worthington’s who remembered 
Father Rice as a child of ten. She said he was very saintly in appearance and 
everybody respected him. But there was evidence of deep poverty in the humble 


ARPA RHOERS OleeCH ESA lierT 43 


cabin where he breathed his last. He spent the last twenty years of his life 
in ministering to the poor and neglected; journeying far and near throughout 
Kentucky and into Ohio, as a missionary of the Cross. At the end he waited 
the summons of God in the lowly cabin and when he died the good neighbors 
and friends came to manifest their sympathy and love. The body was laid 
out in the little room and there was scarcely space for anyone to stand about it. 
But the people thronged the dooryard and stood with uncovered heads as the 
great preacher was carried to his rest in the shady nook below. He had often 
prayed that his children and their descendants should be kept poor and humble, 
even as he himself died. The little Negro church across the way yonder is made 
of the same brick that composed the small Presbyterian chapel where the first 
meeting of the constitutional convention was held. As the years go on _ these 
lowly things will grow memorable and immortal and maybe the Mantle of Elijah 
will fall upon the shoulders of someone today who will bear witness for God 
and Humanity and against Mammon as Father Rice did long ago.” 

In silence they stood, then slowly walked away. The soft wind sighed 
and the bluegrass waved about them. ‘The centennial year of Old Kentucky 
was at hand. Here was heroic history. And this youth, who was a child of 
promise, thereupon became heir to a heritage and commission of Freedom that 
the future was sure to fulfill. Little did he understand as yet how God was 
guiding him, but the vision was forming and the altar was kindling that were 
destined to lead him into a great life work. 





La > a ad 
(Um) ee : 2[3 beeen) bee : 
OlX Cime Rentuckians 


p 





MRS. MARY WOOLFOLK RULE 


CHAPTER XI 
OlX Cime Rentickians 


HE story goes that there were two Woolfolk brothers who settled on 

Harrods Creek across from the old Kuykendall fortress, Oldham 

County, Kentucky. One was Robert and the other Edmund. ‘They 

were partners. Edmund superintended the building of the two- 

story log houses in the good old communistic, help-one-another style. His home 

was on one hill, Robert’s on another. But the tradition is that Robert took 

advantage of his brother Edmund when the sales and records of the land deal 

were made at the county seat. Robert took the lion’s share, removed to the 

city and became a successful man of business and affairs for those days. On his 

death bed his nephew, Jefferson Woolfolk, Edmund’s sen, came to see him. 

The old man was 96 years old; but with a miserly gleam in his dim but still 
cunning and covetous eye, he said, “‘Jefferson, are you making money?” 

Edmund lived along in the good old ways of the fathers. He did not 
fall out with his brother Robert for the advantage he took of him. Robert 
was a Revoluntionary soldier and possibly got the gain spirit from the land 
speculators who were so thick in the woods when the country was settled, Any- 
how, Edmund was humorous and kindly, generous and neighborly. He loved 
to tease the lads and lassies and was the life of the primitive social gatherings. 
The corn huskings, apple parings, wood choppings, house raisings and so on, 
were never so happy as with him around. When he became too old to walk, 
as was his custom, he had his horse or ox-cart brought to the door and so went 
whither he wished. Other times he would sit in the warm chimney corner 
smoking his pipe and interspersing the puffs with a pun or joke. In the delirium 
of his last illness he ordered a beef killed and distributed with his good wishes 
amongst the neighbors, distributed in the ox-cart, after the manner of the time. 

His wife, Agnes, was sweet, gentle and beloved. Though their wedded life 
lasted but a short while in the new Kentucky home, after the birth of her chil- 
dren, it was serene and dear to both. She anticipated and peacefully awaited the 
translation when death drew near. She folded her hands calmly, smiled on 
her husband and children and said: “‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 

The old tombstones that mark their graves in the little cemetery overlooking 
the Harrod’s Creek hills have well-nigh crumbled away and their names will soon 
be lost in oblivion. But from my earliest boyhood the ideals of life and truth 
and love they believed in with earnest and consecrated souls have moulded 
whatever moral character and courage I have had for the great social struggle 
and religious ministry that I must maintain in these latter days of world change 
and chaos. The old ideals will never die. In new and nobler form they will 
yet arise and redeem mankind from the lust of gain and the greed for gold. 
Beyond the present world-war period can be seen a new order arising that shall 
fulfill our dreams and justify all our hopes in spite of bloodshed and death and 
sufferings untold. This is the faith that will overcome the world indeed: and 


OLD TIME KENTUCKIANS 47 


the ensuing chapters of this present history will be the record of lives that lived 
the old ideals in the midst of conditions that tested them to the uttermost. 

Robert had a conundrum which he propounded to visitors with a merry 
twinkle in his eye: ‘“There was a man who had nine sons and every one of them 
had a sister. How many children in all?’’ Of course, the discerning answered 
ten. At all events, the nine boys went to a log school house not far away 
with young cousin, Jefferson. It was their delight to tease him unmercifully 
coming home through the woods. He was a plucky youngster but no match 
for so many. His nurse was a great Guinea Negress by the name of Kate. She 
was thick-lipped and showed the whites of her eyes and would fight like a man 
in defense of her own. She was not long discovering little ‘‘marse’s’’ predicament 
and took steps accordingly. Waiting till the hour school was dismissed, she 
concealed a big butcher knife under her apron and proceeded to the woods where 
she hid herself till the urchins appeared. Her charge was aware of her presence, 
possibly; but when the nine cowardly bullies came up in mad pursuit of their 
young cousin, Kate rushed out at them with a brandish of her butcher knife 
Indian fashion. They were so frightened that they did not stop till they reached 
home; and one or two experiences of that sort made little “‘marse’’ immune 
from molestation afterward. 

Tradition describes the teacher of the time as a large, fleshy, red-faced, 
red-headed bachelor by the name of Baker. He was clever, reserved and sedate, 
but awfully fond of good eating. He rivaled the circuit riders in his love of 
chicken and pie. The old community was proverbially hospitable and the old 
man came back every summer for a long time to enjoy once more the bounty of 
the land. Another teacher of the day was a deaf old fellow by the name of 
Merriweather. He used an ear trumpet and the urchins spelled and shouted their 
lessons in the mouth of the big horn, exchanging sly winks the while. 

Jefferson Woolfolk was tall and slender, with dark eyes and hair, modest 
and gentle mannered, a thinker and scholar, a lover and idealist. He perfected 
himself in Latin and mathematics and taught school while yet in his youth. 
He was strong in primitive athletic sports and could lead the slaves cradling 
grain. He never touched liquor and he held woman in reverence. He was 
reserved but very fond of the ladies. His first disappointment was when he 
addressed a Miss Bullard, a stylish young girl of the neighborhood who was 
an orphan but with property in her own right. She appreciated him but could 
not reciprocate his affections. She afterwards married a plain but worthy 
man in the Blue Grass country. Having no children of their own, they adopted 
several orphans who were a great credit to them in succeeding years. Miss Bullard 
was a fanciful, dressy old lady and her adopted daughters were bright and 
attractive. Two old bachelor friends of Jefferson’s visited them at their Blue 
Grass home. One of these, an eccentric but philosophic character, Uncle Frank 
Magruder, used to say that some men married and regretted it, whereas he had 
remained single all his life and regretted it. “‘If I had it to do over again I 
believe I’d marry and regret it!” . 

That was Jefferson Woolfolk’s philosophy. In time he paid attention to 
another young lady across the Ohio river. The Hoosier girls were attractive 
enough and the one upon whom he now set his heart seemed the ideal of his 


48 TE AGH be BEARERS 


dreams. But, alas! she was otherwise engaged and Jefferson bit the dust of defeat 
the second time. She, too, had the greatest respect for him, and it was no 
pleasant duty to say him nay. 

In the old fortress of the community was the school taught by Rev. John N. 
Blackburn, the Presbyterian clergyman. Among his pupils was a beautiful young 
girl from Charlestown, across the river. She was full of life and animation. He 
heard her make a speech or read an essay at commencement and fell in love with 
her at first sight, telling a friend, even before the introduction, she was the girl 
he wanted for a wife. The Woolfolks were passionate admirers of feminine 
beauty, and that pair of dark eyes solaced the old wounds in Jefferson Woolfolk’s 
heart and made them bleed afresh for the fair young graduate. She was consid- 
erably embarrassed when the tall, handsome Kentuckian sought an introduction 
and asked to call at her home. It was somewhat humiliating also to begin an- 
other courtship in the same town where he had so lately been turned down. But 
Adaline Caldwell had confidence in herself, and her ardent, kindly suitor was 
successful. He was thirty and she was just sweet sixteen, but a blooming school 
maid, when they were wed. But he was as happy as a king. 

After a horseback wedding journey to Lexington, where they possibly 
looked out for Henry Clay, the idol of every Whig, the happy pair returned and 
began housekeeping in the two-story log building of settler times. The old place 
was vacant, and it might be said of him as it was of Isaac, that he brought his 
bride into his mother’s home; and he took her, and she became his wife; and he 
loved her; and he was comforted after his mother’s death. 

A few years later Jefferson Woolfolk removed with his family and slaves to 
a brick house farm of three hundred acres of virgin soil and timber land. He 
was a typical Kentucky master, respecting the rights of his bondmen and bond- 
women, so far as chattels were allowed rights and privileges. He was a gradual 
emancipationist. He was conscious of the slave system, even as he felt its demor- 
alizing effect upon possessor and possessed. The transmuted muscular power of 
his black men and women did not become a god of gold to the Kentuckian as to 
the cotton plantation owner. Masters become profit mongers in proportion to 
their nearness to the market, the value of the commodity produced by chattel or 
wage toilers, and the competition among the landlords and capitalists themselves. 

Jefferson Woolfolk treated his slaves with marked kindness in his lifetime, 
and his closing days were touching. A thoughtful, modest man, he did not con- 
sider a formal connection with the church desirable or necessary in his case. He 
was reserved and conservative rather than positive and outspoken on spiritual 
subjects, though he lent every encouragement to the religious training of his chil- 
dren. He was a great lover of nature, and in the solitude of the field or forest 
often lifted his heart in communion with the Source of All. 

Amid the democracy of death, the solemn equality of the last hour among 
men, he raised his hand in patriarchal benediction above his weeping slaves, wit- 
nessed a touching testimony, and bade them all meet him in the Better Land. 

This was not cowardly sentimentality, a word of weakness, a pious promise 
on the threshold of eternity in lieu of failure to perform duty and do justice in 
life and time. Jefferson Woolfolk was not a coward or a weakling. The mem- 


OLD TIME KENTUCKIANS 49 


ory of his miserly and miserable Old Uncle Robert's death seemed to come over 
him with leaden sadness as he called his son, Newton, to his bedside, kneeling 
as did Jacob before Isaac. 

“Newton, my son, I’d rather see you a minister of the gospel than to spend 
your life in the accumulation of money!”’ 

This incident deeply impressed me in boyhood. Our Uncle Newton was 
admirably fitted for the ministry; but a peculiar lack of confidence in himself pre- 
vented his entering a calling where a man must be a positive force or figurehead. 
So he centered all his hopes upon my taking up the great work, and my fond- 
ness for this kind, old-fashioned uncle was natural. “Thus came my maternal call 


to the gospel ministry. 


GHAP TERS 


Cross and the Dose 





HEN Jefferson Woolfolk brought his beautiful sixteen-year-old bride to 
the two-story log cabin home on Harrods Creek she was much em- 
barrassed. Her husband’s mother had been dead some time, and this 
sweet young girl had a two-fold place to fill. There was a gather- 

ing of the wives and mothers round about to make her welcome, and the slave 
women did their best to serve the dinner nicely. But the young bride was very 
nervous over it all, and when the company left she sat down and had a good cry. 

“Why, Adaline, dear, what in the world is the matter?’’ exclaimed the tall, 
tender-hearted husband when he came in. 

“Oh, Mr. Woolfolk, I made such a mess of it!’’ she wept aloud. 

“Ha! Ha!” laughed he; “‘if all young housekeepers did as well as my sweet 
bride they might be proud indeed.”’ 

“Do you really think so?’’ she asked anxiously, and he reassured her with 
every proof of love and kindness. 

“Indeed, I do! I wouldn't have brought you over here in the backwoods 
if I hadn’t had confidence that you would be queen of my home and fill my dear 
mother’s place. Do you remember what a time I had winning you, Adaline? 
I came to Charlestown to see you one day when your father seemed awfully out 
of humor. I supposed at once that he was mad because I was there to see you; 
but it didn’t make a bit of difference. I was more determined than ever to 
win you!” 

“Why, Mr.. Woolfolk,’’ laughed the young bride between her tears, “‘father 
wasn't mad at all. He merely had a sick headache and that always made him 
seem out of humor.”’ 

“Well, it’s the same way with the dinner party, my dear,’’ he laughed 
again. ‘You've got the wrong idea in your little head, sweetheart!”’ 

Thus did the gentle-souled young school teacher, who never whipped a child 
or a slave in the old days of the rod and the lash, begin his happy married life, 
and his early death was a great shock to the young wife and mother. She was 
born May 16, 1813, married when she was sixteen and was left a widow with 
eight children when she was thirty-nine. She once said that people who joked 
about widows did not know the sorrowful meaning of the word. She leaned on 
her daughter Mary more and more and Mary did not fully realize how much 
comfort she was to her mother. They were more like sisters and confided in each 
other. The mother was very jovial and social by nature and drew young people 
to her home by her pleasing, free personality. Young men who came to see 
Mary laughingly said that the mother treated them better than the daughter. 

Mary was the very incarnation of her father in modest, refined and gentle 
girlhood. She was like him also in her love of nature and the free life of the 
open. She did not care much for dolls. She loved out-of-door games. There 
were Sunday School picnics, and occasionally children’s parties as a special treat, 


OU LIMES KEN LUGKEANS 51 


but no regular weekly entertainment for the boys and girls of long ago. Once 
when Mary was sick her father promised her a party if she would take her medi- 
cine like a good little girl. The Snowdens had given a party and Mary’s turn 
came when she was well. The boys were outside with sticks as little poles, 
jumping over them. Mary was outside also and equaled the most active in swift- 
ness.and skill. She was not yet old enough to feel the responsibility of hostess, 
and her brothers James and Newton came in to their mother and said: 

“Please call Sis in the house. She’s out there with the boys and she ought 
to be inside with the girls.’’ 





THE OLD WOOLFOLK HOME, 
Goshen, Kentucky, when Mary Woolfolk was a child. 


“No doubt it was jealousy more than a sense of propriety on the part of 
the brothers, for Mary could indeed hold her own with the best of them. She 
always could climb and jump and run. The old-fashioned wood-pile had 
branches of limbs very tempting to ride upon. The long coupling pole of the 
wood or hay wagon was equally alluring. One day Aunt Nancy Woolfolk saw 
her at the fun and came to tell Mother Adaline that it was dangerous for a child 
of Mary’s age. So Mother Adaline called little Mary inside and said: 

“You must be a good girl today. Aunt Nancy is from the city and is not 
accustomed to such wild habits in a girl. She will go back and tell people what 
a tomboy you are.” 


ay) DHE eI GH ae BEARERS 


Mary came in the house and got her needle and thread and soon had made 
two plain dresses for the slave children; and then Aunt Nancy bragged on her 
and said to Mother Adaline: 

“That is nice. Mary will sew fast as a child and when she is older pride 
will teach her how to be particular and take pains.” 

Thus did she recover in the good graces of Aunt Nancy. This good maiden 
lady would come with her snuff and knitting and the latest news and was a 
veritable family oracle. She was the Zachary Taylor type, plain and plain spoken, 
and was often preferred by some people to her sister, Aunt Martha Eubank, the 
Masonic Mother, whose suave, gracious manners seemed to them affectation. 

Many children have a dread of the family doctor and are in great anxiety 
when he comes. But little Mary felt differently. Dr. Nat Barbour was the 
family physician even when Mary was born, and she grew up with an affection 
and reverence for his familiar figure. She always felt relieved when he reached 
the home in sickness. He was a great favorite with children and young people. 
He was so anxious to have little Mary to live and grow up to young womanhood. 
The devoted father and mother had already lost three children by death under 
very distressing circumstances. ‘Their first child was a little girl, Jane, who lived 
to be four and was the idol of her father’s heart. One little boy was gone, and 
then another died in infancy, and while the young mother was ill and grieving 
over her latest loss little Jane was taken sick with scarlet fever and died also. Her 
father nursed her in a room alone. The poor child cried for her mother, but 
could only be carried to the door where her mother was; and when the dear little 
girl was dead the hearts of her parents nearly broke with anguish. Jefferson 
Woolfolk became a man of deep and fervent prayer from that time forward. 

When little Mary was a babe her mother’s mother, Mrs. Caldwell, nursed 
them both and was taken ill with a fatal attack which soon ended her life. This 
was a greater grief to the young mother than she had even dreamed of enduring 
and Mr. Woolfolk was so distressed that he sent for Pastor Crouch and had him 
conduct an especially comforting and helpful funeral service. The dead mother 
was a devout Methodist. 

Thus littke Mary was accustomed to the shadow of the cross from her 
earliest childhood, and the beautiful rose of her unfolding young girlhood gave 
promise of rare fulfillment. Her heart went out in sympathy and love to all 
around her. She was always at hand to help a schoolmate when the lessons were 
hard; and when she was a girl of fourteen and made her first trip to Louisville 
she saw the slave pens and chain gangs where the poor negroes were shipped away 
South like cattle. Her father never had sold a slave even if the slave wanted to 
go to another farm or was utterly unbearable longer with the rest, and the sight 
of the manacled captives touched her with horror and pity. 

One of Mr. Woolfolk’s sisters married a Phillips and lived at Westport. She 
died young and left a daughter, Agnes, who by inheritance was to possess a 
number of slaves belonging to her mother. The father married again and when 
Agnes was grown he did not wish to part with her property. This led to bitter 
feeling with his brother-in-law, and only when Jefferson Woolfolk lay on his 
death-bed was there a reconciliation. Phillips acknowledged the wrong he had 
done, and his lovely young daughter, Fanny, came to live in the Woolfolk home 
and attend the Goshen Academy. She and Mary became bosom friends with all 


OLD TIME “KENTUCKIANS ae) 


the ardor of young idealism, and when Fanny went away to the West with her 
parents she and Mary had their daguerreotypes taken and exchanged pictures with 
each other as a pledge of lasting friendship. Fifty years afterward these pictures 
were re-exchanged between the families, and the memory of the friendship is 
fresh and sweet today. 

Jefferson Woolfolk was the main leader in the success of the Goshen Acad- 
emy. He was a man who made a living on his farm but cared far more for 
character and culture than he did for money. [he Goshen Academy was away 
from the evil influences of the city and parents came out with their sons and 
daughters to see them educated in such an ideal environment. The whole section 
of the county from Westport to Louisville sent their sons and daughters to this 
academy, and even the poorer people had the same privileges. The examinations 
were public and there were exercises held two evenings at the old Goshen Church. 
The blackboards were in sight of all and the honor system prevailed among the 
pupils. 

In this charming littke world of culture and youth and happiness Mary 
Woolfolk was such a favorite that she was crowned Queen of the May at the 
annual festival of the seasons. She had a voice of rare sweetness and was the 
pride of her father’s heart when she sang on these occasions. After his death her 
mother sent her to the Presbyterian Academy in Louisville, where she met Jennie 
Cassedy and other girls who became widely known in after years. She was the 
same gentle and loveable girl here as in the country and brought home a book of 
friendship that bears testimony to the rare and genuine affection of young girl 
hearts. 

Prof. Barton, one of the teachers at the city Academy, was a cripple, and 
one of the girls wrote a thoughtless burlesque about him which was dropped on 
the floor, picked up by the janitor and handed to Rev. Mr. Williams, the prin- 
cipal. He quietly asked Prof. Barton to step out of the room, and then he read 
the burlesque and made some careful but impressive comments about having fun 
at the expense of a helpless cripple. [he author of the composition was a sister 
of Jennie Cassedy and meant no real harm by the burlesque. But it was a sin- 
gular happening that her own sister some time after was thrown from a carriage 
and became a cripple for life. In the midst of her suffering she conceived the 
idea of the Louisville Flower Mission. The Jennie Cassedy Rest Cottage was 
founded and finally the Jennie Cassedy Infirmary for suffering womanhood. ‘Thus 
amid the crushed roses cf young life, wounded by accident and disease, the Cross 
of Christ arises serene and beautiful to behold. Of Mary Woolfolk’s work we 
shall tell in the next chapter. In Christian and Masonic tradition the Rose is 
the emblem flower of lovely Mary, and the Cross represents her devotion, and 
service to God and Humanity. 


GHA PieeReexitl 





4 


A Daugliter of 


ITTLE MARY WOOLFOLK learned to sing at a Union Sunday 

School when she was scarcely ten years old and the Superintendent, 

a Mr. Glover, at Goshen, asked her to start the songs, having pa- 

tience if she pitched the tune wrong. When her father heard her 

sing he encouraged her training and made every possible provision for it. One 

of his last gifts to her was a piano which he purchased for her in Louisville and 

brought home late at night in a farm wagon—so late, in fact, that the family 

were alarmed about his long absence. But when Mary saw the beautiful instru- 
ment next morning and touched the keys tenderly, her father said: 


“Now, Mary, I give this piano on one condition: that you always play and 
sing for others when they ask you.” 


She promised, and she kept her word throughout a long life devoted to 
music and song. Her father employed an editor's cultured wife in Charlestown, 
Ind., a Mrs. Ferrier, to cross the Ohio every week, come up the river hill 
on horseback with a faithful slave, and give Mary lessons in music. She 
taught other pupils in the public school. Thus began the devoted life work 
of a timid but determined little girl in the old slave days. She sang with 
natural simplicity and genuine expression. There was soul in the song and the 
words were enunciated with wonderful distinctness and sweetness. The teacher 
was very proud of her, and visiting singers at the old village church remarked 
upon her gift. 

“You have a voice worth cultivating,’ said Dr. Mason, one of the leading 
Episcopal singers from Louisville in those days. Mary was then only fifteen years 
old, but she pursued her studies under Mrs. Ferrier, the editor's wife, Miss Sim- 
mons, and a Mrs. Lynch, who were all excellent teachers. Then she had one 
year in the city under a German teacher, who aided her in attaining the fuller 
and finer perfection of her art. Then on her return home she gradually became 
the leader in the musical life of the old community. 


When Dr. A. S. Newton became Superintendent of the Goshen Academy he 
employed Miss Woolfolk as his music teacher and she was so faithful that it 
affected her health. This was the summer of 1862. Her friend, Miss Birdie 
Locke, persuaded her to take a trip to Boston, Mass., with her. It was during 
the first fearful years of the great struggle, but she went and spent some time in 
Plymouth with friends. Pastor Dinsmore and the Woolfolks at home were 
Union sympathizers, and Mary Woolfolk naturally knew the popular songs of 
the war time, but “‘The Pilgrim Fathers,’’ by Mrs. Hemans, was her favorite. 
She sang it there in the historic little town with such power and sweetness that 
crowds gathered on the street in front of the house to hear her. Miss Locke was 
also a fine singer and shared the applause of the patriotic people. 


ODDS RIMES KENTDUCKTANS 28) 


Many Westport people will recall the late Dr. Johnson of that little town 
and what an excellent singer he was. Before the Civil War he located in Goshen 
to take up Dr. Newton’s practice, as that physician expected to go to Mississippi. 
Dr. Johnson boarded at the Woolfolk home with his wife and taught a class 
of picked singers for the church choir. He had a fine bass voice and was a 
finished Latin and Greek scholar. Visiting ministers who came to Westport in 
after years expressed surprise at finding a man of his education in an obscure river 





MARY WOOLFOLK 


A Singer and Teacher of Music in the old Goshen Church 
and Academy in Civil War days. She shortly afterward 
became the bride of Rev. John Rule (June 7, 1866). 


town; but in those days Oldham County had many accomplished people in quiet, 
home-loving communities who cultivated music and other arts for the sake of it; 
and the moral and social standard of the community life was correspondingly 
high. There was an atmosphere in the old Goshen homes that counted mightily 
in the generation that followed. Mary Woolfolk had all the classic poets and 
novelists in her little library, and she taught the children of the school and com- 
munity with a singular charm and kindliness that they never forgot. The days 


56 HES VIG SEAR ERS 


were full of joy and romance and happiness incident to youth, and when the 
great Civil War came on she found herself at the bedside of the sick and wounded 
soldiers in the hospitals of Louisville, singing to them the songs and hymns and 
poems of religion, patriotism and humanity. 

She was already accustomed to the stirring scenes of the nation at that time 
and had no fear in going among the soldiers. Just before the war broke out she 
made a trip to Iowa to visit her aunt, Mary Rogers, and was back and forth in 
Chicago and Galena, Ill., where General Grant was then living in obscurity as a 
merchant and trader, Elihu B. Washburn was also in Galena, and as one of 
the public men of the day escorted Miss Woolfolk out to supper at a reception 
given by her cousins, the Campbells, who were among the earliest volunteers. 
There was considerable feeling in the town when Grant received a commission 
and was mentioned as the man most capable of leading the people. Washburn 
was indignant that an obscure fellow like Grant should presume a superiority of 
any sort over great men like him; and yet Grant was the dark horse which led 
the nation out in its crisis. In those thrilling times when the public excitement 
was at fever heat Mary Woolfolk sang the songs of North and South with a 
wonderful influence for good. She touched hundreds to tears, and the homesick 
soldiers loved her presence like a benediction. Surely that was a work worth 
while. Mrs. Martha Eubank, the Masonic Mother, accompanied her on those 
visits, and one day a Federal soldier asked to join her in singing. He was 
much better and sang with such feeling and expression that the whole room of 
men were deeply moved. Mrs. Eubank had others of her girls to bring flowers. 
fruit, jellies and many such delicacies for the sick and wounded, who were both 
Federal and Confederate, and the animosities of the great conflict were forgotten 
in the ministry of mercy. 


CELA BOT Sa, 


A Denk-Mute Lduentor 


UNK SEMINARY at LaGrange and McCown Academy at Goshen 

two generations ago were powerful factors in the educational life of 

Oldham County. The presence of Rob Morris at LaGrange and Mrs. 

Martha Eubank at Goshen imparted the Masonic spirit in a wonderful 

way to the work of these institutions. Mrs. Eubank’s home and the Woolfolk 

home at Goshen received and trained fatherless or motherless children with the 

same care exercised now by the Masonic Home in Louisville. The home of 

Stapleton Crutchfield and that of Francis Snowden did a similar work for a large 

circle. Indeed, in those days, the Christian and Masonic spirit did not allow 

boyhood and girlhood to go to waste, either in Kentucky or Indiana. Room was 

found for the growing youth some way in those big old homesteads, and the 
family was one big social group. 

Mrs. Eubank’s name and fame drew to Goshen some of the rarest young 
people in the history of the county. Mary Woolfolk was her assistant and teacher 
in training these young folks outside the regular school work. The most dis- 
tinguished pupil in after life, who was educated at Goshen Academy was Webster 
George, a deaf-mute. This boy’s father was one of the leading men of his gen- 
eration in training these afflicted children of nature; and as both father and son 
were so prominently identified and associated with the work at Goshen we shall 
give a sketch of each. ‘‘The Kentucky Deaf-Mute’’ forty years ago at Danville 
published the following story of the father’s notable life: 

James Goodloe George was born September 8, 1826, in Garrard County, 
Kentucky. He was the third child of James George and Amelia H. Gill, and 
through one or the other parents was related to nearly all the most prominent 
and best known families of Central Kentucky; among them the Owsleys, Boyles, 
Goodloes, Robertsons, McKees, Rhodes, Weissingers and Andersons. His father 
died in the year 1828, and his mother of cholera in 1833. He suffered a partial 
loss of hearing from an attack of scarlet fever in 1832, and became totally deaf 
the year after at the age of seven, but retained some knowledge of speech, which 
subsequent cultivation rendered of great service to him through life. 

Thus we find him in his early boyhood an orphan deprived of one of his 
most important senses, and dependent upon the sympathies and charities of the 
world until he should reach an age when he must look to his own talents and 
energies to win support and success in life. Few men have ever started in the 
race of life at greater disadvantage, and we may safely say that few have ever 
run a straighter course, or developed more thorough usefulness, or attained to 
more genuine success. He gained neither wealth nor fame nor public distinction, 
yet many are the hearts that will mourn his death in the deepest sincerity, and 
many the souls delivered out of darkness that will rise up in the great day and 
bless him as the instrument of their deliverance. 


58 ‘PHE YF WIGHISe BEARERS 


What truer success could any wise man hope for than this, to live a life of 
incalculable usefulness here on earth, to leave a name beloved and unsullied behind 
him and to die in the assured hope of meeting the rewards which await the 
faithful hereafter? Such, we rejoice to believe, was the happy lot of our de- 
parted friend. 

Mr. George entered the Kentucky Institute for the education of the Deaf 
and Dumb in 1839, at the age of thirteen, where he soon developed talents of a 
high order as a pupil, and where he enjoyed the personal instruction of the late 
John A. Jacob, Sr., then principal of the Institution, who was swift to discern 
the superior qualities of his pupil and who brought to bear all his intense zeal 
and masterly skill in moulding them into forms calculated for sure and lasting 


usefulness. 





JAMES G. GEORGE AND HIS SON WEBSTER 


Both deaf mutes of character and distinction as teachers of 
their fellow-unfortunates. 


He was also careful to teach him to look heavenward for guidance and sup- 
port, to trust in the God of Israel alone as a safe refuge, and in His Word as 
the only true light vouchsafed to the benighted soul of man, That these instruc- 
tions, bestowed long since, were like bread cast upon the waters, not lost, the 
life and death of their recipient has amply proven to us; and now that teacher 
and pupil are once more united on the shores of eternity, how grand must their 
significance appear in the light of that land where they both now rest from their 
labors and their works do follow them. 


Mr. George left the Deaf and Dumb Institute in 1843 and went to Frank- 
fort, Ky., where he learned the printer’s trade with Col. A. G. Hodges, for many 
years editor of the Frankfort Commonwealth, a man weil known all over Ken- 
tucky. As a printer Mr. George made himself proficient in every portion of the 
art. He was considered one of the best proof-readers in the State, and for this 
work, so essential in a good printer, his deafness was rather an advantage to him 


OLD TIME KENTUCKIANS IM, 


than otherwise. In 1851 he was married to Miss Louisa Webster, of Richmond, 
Ky. She was also a deaf-mute, educated at this institution, and one of the most 
intelligent and lovely girls, according to the testimony of her teachers, that ever 
left the institution. The pair were admirably suited to each other, and their 
married life, brief though it was, was doubtless as happy as ever falls to the lot 
of the sons and daughters of earth. 

From his position in the Frankfort printing office Mr. George was called in 
1854 to a higher field in the Missouri Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, then 
recently established at Fulton, Calloway County. As to the character of his 
labors there, there is but one testimony, that of unqualified approval. The 
trustees, superintendent, teachers and pupils all unite in pronouncing him a most 
successful instructor of deaf-mutes, and yet his feeble health compelled him to 
resign his position in 1860. 

His wife having died in 1856, he was left a widower with an infant son 
to care for, and came to Richmond, Ky., where he became proprietor of and 
edited the Richmond Messenger. The great Civil War between the Government 
and the Southern States beginning in 1861, Mr. George, who possessed no 
elements whatever of neutrality in his nature, boldly espoused the cause of the 
Union; and while his former friends and neighbors on the one side trembled for 
his life and cautioned him of his danger, and on the other openly denounced and 
threatened him, he stood unmoved at his post, upholding the cause he had 
chosen with his pen, and defiantly unfurling its banner over his office until the 
tide of war swept over him and left his entire establishment in ruins. 

This occurred in 1862. He then retired to Louisville and was appointed 
chief clerk in the provost marshal’s office in the city. At the close of the war 
he obtained a position as bookkeeper in the establishment of Hegan Bros., of 
Louisville. In 1868 he purchased some land near St. Joseph, Mo., and tried 
farming for a time, but returned to Kentucky in 1870 and was appointed teacher 
in this Institution in 1871. Here he continued to labor with that success which 
attended him in every work he undertook, until his disease had gained such hold 
upon his system as to compel him to give up work entirely, and finally to bring 
him down to the grave. 

The story of Mr. George and his son, Webster, which we shall give in the 
next chapter, is a touching and beautiful record in deaf-mute annals. 


GHAF TERY: 


Mchster Gearge 


N 1864, while the great Civil War was still raging over the land, a 

cultured and earnest-minded gentleman from Louisville came out to 

Goshen with his nine-year-old son seeking Mrs. Martha Eubank. The 

father and mother of the boy were both deaf-mutes, and he had been 

in the company of deaf-mutes since he was two years old. Mr. James George, 

the father, was very anxious to put his son, Webster, in school where he would 

be taught to speak and articulate like other children, and, above all, receive the 

kindly care of some motherly woman. Mrs. Eubank and Goshen Academy had 
been so recommended. 

But Mrs. Eubank was not equipped to take very young children. She 
accommodated a number of motherless boys for a short time, nevertheless, Web- 
ster George among them. ‘‘Her house was full,’ says this now distinguished 
deaf-mute educator in his recollections, ‘“‘and on her recommendation I was sent 
to Mrs. Woolfolk’s. I think that was fortunate for me. There was no one at 
the Eubank’s house whom I could look. upon as my mother. ‘There was no 
individuality. Each one had a number.”’ 

With tender humor he tells how his untutored heart turned to the solace of 
early romance: “‘I remember Mrs. Eubank had two girls whom I[ claimed for my 
sweethearts, without reflecting that it took two to make it a go. I called one 
of them Rachel and the other Leah, as a result of reading those magnificent story 
books of Bible history in the Woolfolk library. By the way, let me tell you 
that these books impressed me more profoundly than any books I ever read. I 
wonder if you have them yet? I do not think I have ever seen their equal in 
the adaptation of the subject to the young. 

“There was another teacher I had, and I am mad at myself because I can not 
recall her name. She was young and pretty and awful sweet. A few weeks 
before the close of school she promised the boys, big and little, if they behaved 
well in school she would give each of them a good-bye kiss. Every one of us 
got the coveted kiss. There was a full attendance of the boys on the closing day 
of school. I wish I could meet that lady again and ask for one more kiss for 
my effort to be good all ‘these forty-five years.” 

Young Webster and several other motherless boys were assigned to the care 
of Miss Mary Woolfolk at her mother’s home. Webster was shy at first, with 
his difficulty of hearing and speech, and Miss Mary quickly learned the deaf-mute 
alphabet so she could talk to him on her fingers when necessary. He had been 
two years previously under the care of a dear, intelligent, motherly lady near 
Lexington, and he never forgot her faithfulness to him. Even when she was 
past eighty years of age he met her and expressed his abiding gratitude. 

Still, when he became a pupil of Miss Woolfolk and experienced her won- 
derful tenderness, he lived to say, “‘Of all those to whose care I was intrusted 
after I was deprived of a mother’s tender love you made me feel that you came 


OGD] CIME-SKEN TUCKIANS 61 


the nearest to filling her place. It seems to me that I am sailing towards the 
sunset of life; and oh, how | long to catch one more glance of your eye, and 
receive one more word of comfort and cheer. 

“IT was looking over my letters to my father from Goshen. He preserved 
every one of my letters to him from the first when I was eight at Lexington 
until I was twenty-one in Washington, just before I was called to his last sick 
bed. I was vastly amused at my infantile, toddling efforts in the acquisition of 
language. Most of my letters were written with lead pencil. In one of them I 
found the sentence: ‘I wanted to write this letter with pen and ink, but Miss 
Mary says I have not yet learned the legitimate use of ink.’ The big word was 
evidently too much for my infantile capacity, and I wrote it at your dictation, 
letter by letter. All through my letters the loving, guiding hand of this ‘Miss 
Mary’ is plainly visible.’’ 

Webster George says he was in the common school enly six years and dur- 
ing that time he was never able to hear more than the teacher’s voice shouted at 
him. He felt completely isolated. He was far from being satisfied with his 
acquisition; so from that hour “‘Excelsior’’ was my motto, which I took from 
my Webster's spelling book. Like Oliver Twist, I asked my father for ‘more.’ 
The result was my father sent me to college in Washington direct from Goshen, 
mevtvatyiieal ole 

It was the fond hope of his father’s heart that he would not grow up a 
deaf-mute, but when Mr. George came out to see Mrs. Woolfolk about it she was 
compelled to write on his pad, “It is very sad, but Webster is slowly losing his 
hearing and speech, and I would advise you to put him at the best school or 
college in the land.”’ 

The tears coursed down the cheeks of the devoted father, but as in so many 
emergencies of life, he replied that he would do the best he could. He gave up 
business and retired with Webster to a farm out in Missouri and spent six months 
or a year giving the lad the finest personal attention, Mr. George being one of 
the leading deaf-mute instructors in the country. But he was doomed to dis- 
appointment. He returned to Goshen with his son, and Webster remained at 
Mrs. Woolfolk’s until college began in Washington City. He made splendid 
progress and graduated with high honors, but, alas, just that spring his dear 
father died, and the grief-stricken son faced life alone at the time of all others 
when he needed and craved parental love and counsel. He was at his father’s 
bedside; then he came to Mrs. Woolfolk’s to see them all. 

It would take a whole chapter to give a mere outline of Webster George's 
distinguished career as a deaf-mute educator and benefactor in Illinois and through- 
out the country. Just a glimpse of his first upward steps. He was clerk in a 
fire insurance office in 1878 and gave perfect satisfaction to his employer. He 
was clerk in an immense freight depot from ’78 to ’82. This was in Chicago, 
where he had an uncle living who took a deep interest in his success. 

But the uncle forgot that his young nephew had a heart, and when Webster 
met and fell in love with a lovely young deaf-mute girl by the name of Carrie 
Hathaway, the uncle forgot his own youth and said, ‘‘Boy, you are crazy to 
think of getting married.’’ Webster, however, said that he knew better what he 
wanted than his uncle. He wanted someone to love and to comfort him, and he 
certainly found the wife of his youth in Carrie Hathaway. By his father’s death 


62 THE SLIGHT BEARERS 


he came into possession of life insurance, which he saved and used judiciously. 
Then, like his father, he turned his attention to the great work to which he was 
called and for which he was so finely equipped, the education of his fellow un- 
fortunates who had lost hearing and speech. 

He taught in the Chicago day school for the deaf from 1879 to 1882, 
working in the freight depot after school hours to relieve the afternoon rush of 
business, and during vacation. He then became editor of the Chicago Letter, a 
paper devoted to the interests of the deaf. He was next appointed teacher in the 
State school for the deaf, at Jacksonville, Ill., in 1882, which position he still 
holds at the age of sixty-five or seventy, besides having shared some of the 
highest honors in the whole world of deaf-mutes. 

“T have not a deaf enemy in the world,” he said, writing to Miss Mary, 
his old teacher and friend. ‘‘Those who thought at first that they had reason 
to be unfriendly to me, one by one had to confess that I was the best friend 
they ever had. I simply put into practice those principles of justice, considera- 
tion of other's feelings, and honesty which | learned from you from 1864 to 
1868. And this is why my thoughts so fondly turn to my old Goshen home. 
* %*  %* * * Could you say I ever had any dreams of this (success/in life) 
when I was hunting for paw-paws in the woods around Goshen in company with 
my dog, Nep, in 1864 and 1868? Yet I can truthfully say that I was happier 
then and there than [| am now. 


“God pity them both, and pity us all, 
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall.”’ 


Yet who does not feel the same way when thinking of ‘‘The Old Kentucky 
Home?’’ Webster played happily with the little darkies in the woods and fields, 
and in a letter received some years ago from him he humorously recalls the hired 
man, Jim, and his wife. ‘They had a boy as black as the ace of spades. One 
day I tried to play school-master and teach him that he should say molasses in- 
stead of ‘lasses.’ With fine sarcasm and inimitable drawl, which I can remember 
after nearly fifty years of total deafness, he replied: “‘You fine white folks can 
say M-O-lasses all you want to but Lasses is plenty good enough for us niggers 
Up in de acabines 


CHAPTER XVI 


rIAU Srhoal and the pte u 
> > 





School 


§ 


HE first school teacher in Kentucky was a woman, Mrs. William 

Coomes. She taught the children of the pioneers in the fort at 

Harrodsburg, as far back as 1776. Her only text books were a few 

Bibles and hymn books, in possession of the people. This school 

was a combined day school and Sunday School, taught privately, and nearly 

every fort, station and settlement had such a school. “The Sunday School was 
the mother of the common school everywhere. 

Sometime during the year 1783, a young woolen mill worker came to the 
city of Gloucester, England, to call upon Robert Raikes. It was Sunday, 
afternoon. They took a walk into one of the slum sections called ““The Island,” 
Ragamuffin children were at play everywhere around them. 

“What a pity that the Sabbath should be so desecrated,’’ remarked King 
to his companion Raikes. 

“But how could you prevent it?’’ asked Raikes earnestly. 

“Why, I would open a Sunday School for them. 

This idea sank deep into the mind of Robert Raikes. He made a visit 
some days later to the Gloucester prison. He there talked to a young man 
sentenced to die for burglary. This poor young fellow had never received 
any instruction whatever in morals, nor any education to teach him the meaning 
of life. No mother’s prayer had ever softened and consoled his sinful heart. 
He knew the name of God only to swear by. He had no conception what- 
ever of the soul of man and its immortality. 

Robert Raikes was deeply impressed. He talked and prayed with the 
poor fellow, who was so soon to die for his crime. Only a favored few of 
the young were educated in all England at that time. The children of the 
poor were put to work as soon as they could do anything that was profitable. 
Sunday was their only day of recreation and pleasure, and there were none to 
guide them aright. 

Raikes soon established a model Sunday School. He loved childhood and 
the little ragged urchins responded wonderfully to his tenderness. He taught 
them to read and write. The church catechism was the religious text book, 
and they learned order, decency and good discipline. 

Within a few years after the demonstration of this remarkable experiment, 
the idea had spread through the English colonies. It crossed the Atlantic and 
passed over the American continent with astonishing rapidity. Almost coinci- 
dent with the founding of the first “‘“Grammar School’ in Kentucky by Father 
David Rice, Mrs. John Brown, of Kentucky, a devout Presbyterian mother, 
wife of State Senator and Congressman Brown, gathered into her cabin home 
the neglected children of the forest and organized the first regular Sunday 
School west of the Alleghany mountains. Today her monument stands near 
that of Daniel Boone in the old cemetery at Frankfort. 


+? 


64 (iE eUIGH hae bE areas 


In that early day Kentucky was governed by the old Virginia Colonial 
laws, which made so many crimes against property capital offenses. These 
cruel laws were dropped from the code of Jefferson, Wythe, and Madison, when 
they revised the Statutes of Virginia, because they were familiar with the 
terrible punishment meted out to juvenile offenders mn Old Engfand. And 
Jefferson’s biographer tells us that his one great enthusiasm was the mental 
and social uplift of the disinherited, disfranchised common people everywhere. 

He proposed to place a common school within reach of every child; 
to make a high school accessible to every superior youth; to open the way to 
a college and university training for every promising lad; and to establish a 
State library which would be the mother of culture to all. 

This noble plan was received with great popular favor after the Revolu- 
tionary War, but the heavy indebtedness upon the State disheartened the friends 
of the movement, and it failed of success. Jefferson had inserted a clause in 
the common school law allowing each county to tax itself for free schools, 





Nf 


JOHN F. GLOVER 


but the presence of slavery and the prejudice of the planters against the poor 
whites, and tobacco rollers nipped the idea in the bud. It remained for a 
Presbyterian minister, Rev. David Rice, who had himself been a poor boy in 
Old Virginia and had paid for his own education by toiling in the tobacco 
fields, to carry through in the free commonwealth of Kentucky, the noble dream 
of Thomas Jefferson. 

About the time the Masonic Home and School was founded in LaGrange, 
Kentucky, between 1845 and 1850, a Union Sunday School was started at 
Goshen, by a remarkable man who had moved into the community and was 
keeping store and post office on the Ohio River at [larmony Landing. This school 
gathered together the children of all the churches and gave them advantages 
in music and Bible instruction that they never had before. The school was 
held in the Presbyterian church, was non-sectarian and was conducted by this 


OLD TIME KENTUCKIANS 65 


gifted man, John F. Glover. The school flourished mostly during the Mexican 
War, and had a tremendous influence in winning the community, and _ pre- 
paring it for the public school and academy established soon after by Masonic 
influence, of which Stapleton Crutchfield was the leader—Jefferson Woolfolk and 
Lilberne Magruder being associated with him. 

The story of John F. Glover’s life escaped us until the fall of 1918, when 
we were in Evansville, Ind., and met his only living son. Our mother was 
a pupil under Mr. Glover and gives a glowing account of the singing and 
teaching. It seems that Mr. Glover emigrated from Pennsylvania to Louisville 
with Matthew Ferguson, a pioneer builder and architect of the Falls City. The 
family of Jefferson Woolfolk were very intimate with the Glovers because a 
brother-in-law of Mr. Woolfolk had come from Pennsylvania with Matthew 
Ferguson and John Glover; and there was kinship by marriage in the family 


connections. 
Mr. Glover became distinguished for the Sunday Schools he conducted 


at Goshen, in Louisville and Evansville, and the impression he left on the early 
religious life of this county can never be over-estimated. It falls in so perfectly 
with the purpose of the Masonic School at La Grange, in saving and educating 
poor boys and girls instead of letting them drift into crime, that we feel 
impelled to close this chapter with the facts of Mr. Glover's life for future 
generations to read. His son, a physician at Evansville, gave us pictures of his 
father and mother. 

John F. Glover was born near Harrisburg, Pa., the 29th of March 1814. 
His grandfather was'a Revolutionary soldier, and his father served in the war 
Cielo OOnwaseat home, and at, school, and in “his fathers. mill until 1827. 
when he began work on the Pennsylvania Canal at fifty cents a day. He drove 
a cart and worked in the office two years. Then he removed to Louisville, 
and entered his uncle’s lumber yard till 1838, when he began again in a grocery. 
He married Lucinda Simons, daughter of A. L. Simons, of Louisville, and went 
back to the lumber trade with his brother-in-law, W. G. Davis. They had a 
good trade, but Mr. Glover decided to move to Evansville and set up a yard. 
In December, 1852, he reached Evansville and opened up on Main and Seventh 
street. His career was marked by great and unwavering integrity and enterprise. 
He was most successful as an organizer of Sunday Schools. He had joined 
the M. E. Church at Harrisburg, and before his arrival in Evansville, had 
acted as Superintendent of Brook St., M. E. S. S. in Louisville, for over 10 
years. From his fifth year when he joined the Lutheran S. S. in Harrisburg, 
he has been laboring as scholar, teacher, or officer in this cause. 

Mr. Glover was Superintendent of the Ingle Street Mission School. ‘This 
school had been in operation for several years and was prospering finely when 
some of its officers joined the Federal army; and the large number of scholars 
began to dwindle till at last the small number of 100 met at the court 
house. At this juncture, Mr. Glover was asked to take charge of the work 
and after considerable urging, both from teachers and scholars, he consented. 
Rooms were obtained in the Crescent City Hall, later known as the Commercial 
School, and in a short time, owing to the co-operation of the several Evan- 
gelical churches, the school increased from month to month, till at length about 
1,000 scholars were enrolled. The last year of Mr. Glover's administration, 600 


66 THE VEIGH PeeBEBARERS 


names were on the register with an average of 504 pupils. Miss E. E. 
Johnson, a well known Christian lady, was associated with him several months. 

A leading element of the success of the S. S. was music, which depart- 
ment was under the leadership of Professor C. C. Genung, organist, and W. W. 
Tileston, Esq., chorister, the former having given several years of labor in this 
line and later was connected with the school from its organization till its 
disbandment in 1868. The school performed a good and lasting work, and 
Mr. Glover will ever be remembered in connection with his many pecuniary 
sacrifices to promote the good cause and his earnestness and foresight in 
providing the children with the means and opportunities of becoming good 
men and women. The school was brought to a high state of perfection after years 
of struggling and experimenting, and only stopped on account of the leasing 
of their hall to other parties. Mr. Glover often remarked that this “‘Mission’’ was 
the pleasantest work of his life, and he expected to return to it again. Our 
subject was also Superintendent of Trinity M. E. S. S. for three years and was 
long a teacher of the Bible classes. A prudent merchant, devoted to Christian 
work; enterprising in all his philanthropic plans, he was called ‘‘The Guardian 
of the Poor People’s Children.”’ 

Mr. Glover’s work at Goshen, before he went back to Louisville and to Evans- 
ville in his larger religious activities, possessed all these great elements of success 
and was backed up by the American Sunday School Union, then in its incipiency. 
Mr. Glover lived at Harmony Landing while here, and was very active in 
the old Cross Roads Methodist Church above Goshen. He died in Evansville, 
September 15th, 1884. His wife died just ten years later. 








REV; THOMAS CLEEEANDS DD: 


CHAP ar har \all 


Story and Restoration of an 
Din Country Church and Neighborhood 





HE Old Goshen Church will celebrate its centennial in 1925; and 
the Old Vernon Church, where the writer is pastor, will celebrate 
its hundredth year also in 1925. The Old Vernon Church centers 
in great memories of a historic little town; Goshen Church is 

an old country church full of noble names and traditions; and we shall here 
review the story and the restoration. 

There are two things that promote and preserve local tradition and historic 
sentiment, namely, the published reminiscences of old settlers still surviving 
and the organization of an active historical society to yather and guard these 
treasures for future generations. Usually a historical society centers in a good 
public library and its monthly meetings create an appreciation for the material 
memories that constitute the body of local history. For exampie, ‘ennings 
County, Indiana, has an admirable public library at North Vernon, and there 
is a historical society now collecting and preparing the data for the county 
history. 

GRAVES OF FORGOTTEN HEROS 


During the fall of the year 1923 a great gathering was held at the grave 
of an old revolutionary soldier, a veteran of Valley Forge, by the entire 
county. The Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution sent down a 
representative from Indianapolis; the exercises were of a religious and patriotic 
nature, held on Sunday afternoon, and Judge Ralph Carney, of Vernon, told 
us that it was a meeting long to be remembered. Now let us remind our 
own readers that the grandfather of Rev. Jacob Ditzler was a veteran of Valley 
Forge under Washington, and that he lies buried on the site of the Old Union 
Meeting House on the Wood Mount farm below Goshen. Would it not be 
fine to witness a similar meeting in our own community to honor a man 
who battled for our liberties and then braved the perils of Indian days to help 
plant civilization here in our backwoods? 


ANDREW STEELE, THE OLD ELDER AND PIONEER 


From a North Vernon photographer we obtained a good copy of the 
old Andrew Steele daguerreotype in the possession of his great grandson, Samuel 
Steele, of Prospect. With reference to Andrew Steele, Mr. Jeff Steele, his 
grandson writes us under date of November 19, 1923; “‘No Shirley ever 
married a Marrs, but Reuben Ross married Andrew Steele’s niece, Miss Marrs, 
and Reuben Ross’ son, John, married a Mrs. Shirley. There is no Shirley 
related to the Steeles or the Marrs. Andrew Steele, when he came to Kentucky 
bought a farm on the River Road between Harrods Creek and Louisville. He 


70 (LHe GIiGH WaBEARERS 


did not like the place, and he sold it, and moved to where Charles Collier now 
lives. Andrew Steele built that house in 1792 or 1793. After said Andrew 
Steele became too old and had to be taken care of, he said he was going to 
stay with Ann, Mrs. S. B. Steele. My father bought the present Jeff Steele 
farm from Frank Brown, Mrs. Steele’s brother. He then bought land from 
William Mayo, when he left Kentucky for Missouri, the land that was bought 
by William Pollock from Allen Wilhoyte. This Pollock was the grand- 
father of Mrs. Mayo. The land adjoining Bledsoe Mount and E. C. Hoagland, 
S. B. Steele bought when the Talbots left the neighborhood. 

“Now there is a place below Louisville called Pond Creek, which does 
not mean Prospect Pond. Richard Steele was never heard of in our section 
of the country. So you see Andrew Steele and Sam Steele were the only ones 
who lived around here, except a half-brother of Andrew Steele; but my father 
always said his name was Samson Steele. He lived where William Liter now 
lives; his house burned down and all of his records were lost.’’ 





ANDREW STEELE 


Old Elder and Pioneer. He had a rifle with which it was 

claimed Col. Ralph Tarleton, of Goshen, killed Tecumseh in 

the Battle of the Thames. They would not give the glory 
to (Cols. B Me Johnston: 


EARLY SINGING SCHOOL TEACHERS 


At the present Bledsoe Mount home in those days lived “‘Aunt Judy” 
Wilhoyte, who was a great singer. She could sing tenor like a man, and in 
the Old Union Meeting House, where the Christian church began its early 
ministry, “Aunt Judy’s’’ voice could be distinguished above all others. <A 
daughter of Mrs. Wilhoyte married a man by the name of Leonard who was one 
of the earliest music and singing school teachers of the neighborhood. He 
used the music numerals and made up a book of selections which he used 
constantly in his classes and public singing. Mrs. Delia Ann Clore Trigg was 
a pupil of his and became one of the best song leaders at Antioch and Prospect 


ANE OSE COUNT RY eGR GH 71 


churches. The Clores and Wilhoytes had a lot of natural musical talent, 
and this teacher Leonard trained it. As a consequence this musical gift descended 
to the younger generation. In. Westport and Goshen neighborhoods Dr. David 
Johnston was a splendid song and musical instructor; and his work was 
continued at Goshen by Prof. Edmunds, of the Academy. Our mother says 
the Methodist people were generally very musical and that most of their 
preachers were good singers. 


WHEN PRESBYTERY MET AT GOSHEN 


It is not generally known that there was once a meeting of Louisville 
Presbytery at Goshen church. The records of the church show that in June, 
1868, the writer’s father, Rev. John Rule, then licensed, but not ordained, 
began his second period of service to the church as stated supply. By sacra- 
mental services the membership of both Goshen and Harrods’ Creek churches 
was substantially increased. Rev. Thomas Cleland, Jr., son of the old pioneer 
pastor of that name, conducted one at Harrods Creek chutch in October, 1868. 
A number of children were baptized at the same time. 

In November, 1868, Rev. R. G. Brank, D. D., of Lexington, conducted 
a sacramental service at Goshen church. On this occasion one of the 
noblest women in the history of the community was received into the fellow- 
ship of the church. The record says: ‘‘Mrs. Sallie D. Magruder, having for 
some time been a member of the Westport Presbyterian church, presented 
herself before the session, and having stated that the church to which she had 
belonged was now in such a disorganized state that it was impossible to get 
any letter of dismission, there being no active elder living there, expressed a 
Gesire to be received into the membership with the Goshen church on examination. 
But it being known that Mrs. Magruder had for several years been a con- 
sistent member of the church, the usual questions were dispensed with, and 
she was admitted into full communion with the Goshen church.” 

On this same occasion the young pastor had made a strong appeal to 
parents to have their children dedicated to God by the ordinance of baptism; and 
the following little folks were presented at the altar and baptized by Dr. Brank: 
George Wythe Crutchfield, Mary Knight, Clarence Woolfolk Rule, and 
Lilberne Duerson Magruder. The next year the congregations of Goshen and 
Harrods Creek united in a call for the permanent pastoral services of the writer's 
father; and the church record contains the following: ; 

“Mr. Huffman having presented the call to Presbytery, and the necessary 
business preparatory to ordaining and installing Mr. Rule having been attended 
to at Presbytery, an adjourned meeting of that body was appointed to 
take place at the Goshen church, on Saturday, September 4th, 1869, at 11 
o'clock, for the purpose of ordaining and installing Mr. Rule pastor of the 
Goshen church. Rev. Dr. Stuart Robinson, Rev. L. P. Yandell, Rev. P. H. 
Thompson, and Rev. P. P. Flournoy, being the committee appointed to take 
part in the services. At the specified time Presbytery met, and ordained and 
installed Mr. Rule pastor over the Goshen church, Rev. L. P. Yandell performing 
in addition to the part service assigned to him, also that assigned to Dr. Robin- 
son, in consequence of the latter’s being prevented from being present by illness. 


ag THE LIGHT BEARERS 


THE OLD SACRAMENTAL MEETINGS 


The record of these sacramental services continue throughout our father’s 
pastorate at Goshen and Harrods Creek and always with mention of substantial 
increase in the church membership. There can be no possible doubt that 
the increased busy age in which we live and the decreased attendance on regular 
and stated preparatory service at communion time have had a marked influence on 
the passing of spiritual devotion. But it was our purpose merely to make mention 
of the leading Presbyterian ministers of Louisville who assisted in these meetings, 
and their continuance for quite a number of years after our father had given 
up the church. Rev. W. T. McElroy, his successor, was a firm believer in 
the old sacramental meeting and received some of his finest young people during 
such a series of services. This sort of meeting was analogous to the Methodist 
quarterly meeting in some respects, but was in no sense borrowed from or 
based on the quarterly meeting, for the sacramental service dated far back before 
Wesley's time in Presbyterian history. 





AN OLD, COUNTRY CHURCH 


EI.DER WILSON DUERSON 


The father of Elder Thomas Wilson Duerson, of the Westport Presbyte- 
rian church, was known as Old Captain Duerson, and was one of the earliest 
pioneers in county history. His son, Elder Wilson Duerson, clearly recalled 
the first steamboats on the Ohio in those early times and how the glare of 
the big fires under the boilers terrified the people on shore. Old Captain 
Duerson was the father of Elder Wilson Duerson, and of Deacon Alex Duerson 
of Harrods Creek Presbyterian church. The Old Captain survived until the 
family moved to the “‘Archer Place’ adjoining the present Belknap farm. Mrs. 
Sallie Duerson Magruder was the daughter of Elder Wilson Duerson and _ his 
wife, Nancy Trigg Duerson. When she was a child her father and mother 
lived for a while at the Busey Snowden farm, then owned by Mr. John Henshaw, 


ANZ OUD sCOUNER Y= CHORCH 13 


for whom: they kept house. Little Sallie Duerson attended school right across 
the Harmony Landing road in the log school house still standing on the farm 
of John C. Pierce. Samuel E. DeHaven was Sallie Duerson’s teacher, and 
she ever afterward had a high respect for him. While her parents were living 
on the Henshaw place, which adjoined the Woolfolk farm, she and Mary 
Woolfolk became friends, and the passing years only deepened the attachment 
up to the time of her death in 1910. 

While he was an elder in the Westport church Mr. Wilson Duerson fre- 
quently attended the sessions of Presbytery. His daughter Sallie usually ac- 
companied him and greatly enjoyed the meetings. Their home was always open 
to preachers; and when the writer's father first came to Goshen in 1865 the 
Duersons made him welcome into their family on the old Archer place. He 
had a cozy room upstairs with an old fashioned wood fire; and the household 
did everything in their power to make him comfortable. He afterward became 
a guest and boarder in the home of Mrs. Adaline Woolfolk, where Pastor 
Dinsmore had sojourned for a number of years. In the Duerson family were 
Mary Lucy, Sallie and Tom. Mary Lucy was a very gentle, sweet and lovable 
young girl, about two years the senior of her sister Sallie. 


ROMANCE OF Dr. HILL AND MARTHA SMITH 

Old Captain Duerson had an adopted niece, Miss Jane Bullard, who in 
former years had had the devoted admiration of no less a lover than Jefferson 
Woolfolk, of Goshen; but she married a Mr. Willis Grimes, of Danville. She 
was a very benevolent lady and adopted a gifted young girl by the name of 
Martha Smith, who had most decided poetical and musical talent. The well 
known Presbyterian editor and pastor, Rev. Dr. W. W. Hill, of Louisville, 
met Martha Smith shortly after the death of his first wife, and he fell in love 
with her. It proved a most reciprocal attachment and flowered into the greatest 
happiness. The children of this union became noted in musical and_ social 
work in Louisville and New York in after years; Archibald Hill, the social 
settlement leader; Mildred Hill, a high authority on melody and folk lore 
music; and other members of a family touched with genius. Dr. Hill loved 
to come to Goshen. Our mother was present as a guest at his wedding to 
Martha Smith in Danville. 


TRAGIC DEATH OF MARY LuUcY DUERSON 

Lovely Mary Lucy Duerson and her pretty sister Sallie were frequent 
visitors to Danville in the old college days before the Civil War at the home 
of their relative, Mrs. Grimes. Professor Cooper, of Center College, a hand- 
some, gifted man, who had lost his first wife some time previous, lost his heart 
to Mary Lucy Duerson and paid her the most devoted and sincere attention. 
It seemed that another happy romance was imminent like that of Martha 
Smith and Dr. Hill, for indeed Mary Lucy was deeply moved by the ardent 
attention of her cultured and_= gracious lover. It. seems that they had 
pledged their troth. Her sister, Sallie, too, had found an attractive admirer, a 
young student for the ministry by the name of McKee. So both the girls 
returned to Goshen. But, alas, for the dream and romance when _ sweet 
Mary Lucy was taken down with malarial or typhoid fever! Our mother, 


74 Abele JMLCIEME JejeveW yaad es 


then a young girl, went over to help nurse her. ‘The disease had such a speedy 
and fatal termination that Professor Cooper was not able to reach her bed- 
side before she breathed her last. It was one of the saddest and most dis- 
tressing deaths in the entire history of the community. When Professor Cooper 
reached Goshen she was dead and buried. Whether she had communicated her 
love story to her parents as yet or not, we do not know. But Professor 
Cooper told them of his great love for her and asked to be left alone for a 
while in the room where she died. His grief was deep and touching. 





REVesEL. UM PELR EY}: 


Professor of Church History in old Danville, Kentucky, 

Seminary, the first year of the Civil War, when John Rule 

was a student for the ministry. Dr. Humphrey’s influence 

was gentle and noble as a teacher and preacher. He was a 
strong Union man, 


IN MEMORY OF “LADY BOUNTIBUL’’ 


It appears that after the death of her sister, Mary Lucy, the parents of 
Sallie Duerson could not give their consent to her marriage to the young 
ministerial student, who doubtless would have taken her far away from home. 
So in a few years she yielded her heart and hand to one of the finest young 
men in the home community, Warren Magruder whose father owned the present 
Belknap farm. She was married in the fall of 1866 at the ‘‘Archer Place’ 
and went to ‘‘Locust Grove,’ the Magruder home where she established a 
generous and old fashioned hospitality that won her scores of devoted friends 
far and wide. [The Magruder farm was one of the best conducted in the 
neighborhood, and Mrs. Magruder had the means to gratify her generous and 
gracious instincts. No other name but that of “‘Lady Bountiful’ befits her 
enduring memory. 

Mrs. Magruder always took a leading part in the Christmas occasions for the 
children. She was especially watchful for those who might be overlooked; and 
in her big basket of neat and attractive packages were surplus gifts for the 
stranger within the gates or the unexpected guest, to say nothing of the lone 


DNS OLDECOUN T Ry “CHURCH jie 


and forlorn little ones that even some thought God and Santa Claus had forgotten! 
Not only those tokens of kindness were freely bestowed; but from her meat house 
and cellar and store room Thanksgiving and Christmas baskets went forth 
to the widow and orphan, and also to her near and dear friends. We never knew 
anyone who gave more gladly, joyfully and freely, only delighting in the love 
extended and returned. Indeed, it was impossible ever to repay her kindness 
except with the proof of gratitude and unending friendship. She was an unfailing 
supporter of the Presbyterian Orphanage at Anchorage, helping a number of 
bright young folks in their education and to places of success in life. She 
had scores of friends among the shop girls of Louisville, and they had a 
regular day in summer when they came out in a body to enjoy her hospitality. 

You were always welcomed at ‘“‘Locust Grove’ in winter time by a 
great warm coal fire on the hearth and Mrs. Magruder knitting or making 
some future Christmas article. She had a store of stories, incidents of life 
and character, which made her a very entertaining person to listen to for a 
couple of hours. She was very loyal to her pastor, and no friend was ever 
truer than she. Indeed, Mrs. Sallie Magruder belonged to a generation in 
Old Goshen church that has never been equalled nor surpassed. Her sym- 
pathies for the poor but worthy, for the unfortunate Lut struggling, people, 
in the range of her benevolence fulfilled the letter and spirit of Old Testa- 
ment times when the womanhood of the last chapter of Proverbs was an ideal. 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS OF OLDEN TIMES 

Neither Mary Lucy nor Sallie Duerson were students at the Goshen Acad- 
emy. They were educated in the Westport schools. But from ti «berty 
neighborhood to Goshen in those days came Addie and Irene Thomas, Mattie 
Toliver, daughter of Old Captain Toliver, Sarah Bondurant, daughter of Jeff 
Bondurant, and other bright young people. The sister Addie —Thomas was a 
most beautiful girl and became the happy bride of the poet-physician, Dr. 
Bryant of Brownsboro. The Thomases were neighbors of Captain Toliver. Sue 
Hardin from Brownsboro was another pupil at Goshen. 


“FAITHFUL WOMEN NOT A FEW” 

Mary Toliver Woolfolk did not attend the Goshen Academy, but she was 
converted in the old log school house at the cross roads above Goshen and 
was an outstanding figure in the religious circles of Methodism for a long 
lite time. She had a very definite and satisfying experience of saving grace, 
and to the very last year of her good old age she delighted to attend Kav- 
anaugh Camp Meeting and take part in the testimony services. She and 
her sister Mattie Toliver Magruder, together with other devoted souls, were 
trained to self-expression in spiritual experience; and we have heard our mother 
relate how those “‘love-feasts’’ at quarterly meeting in Shiloh would move one 
after another to stand up and “‘speak, sing or pray.’’ This was not Pres- 
byterian policy or practice; and the generation of godly women at Goshen 
church began to feel the inadequacy and injustice of an old custom that 
worthy women of today “‘keep silent in the churches.’’ So there was a move 
in Goshen community to go a step beyond the organization of a ‘‘Ladies’ 
Aid Society,” first set on foot by the helpers of Rev. Edward Gregory. 


76 HE LIGH Gs BEARERS 


Our mother asked the pastor who succeeded Mr. Gregory, Rev. E. H. 
Amis, whether or not he approved of a woman’s prayer meeting. He answered 
that he certainly had no objection; so at the next morning service he called 
the good women together after the meeting was over and proposed the organi- 
zation of such a society at once. Mrs. Sallie Magruder was selected to lead 
the first meeting; and she prepared herself fully. The ladies passed around 
simple written petitions at first; and then personal petitions were offered by 
each one; so that today there are those who can offer prayer even in the 
meeting of Presbyterian women. Francis Snowden and Andrew Steele, brave 
old pioneers, were the first elders in Goshen church; but no mention was 
made of ‘‘the faithful women not a few” on the church records until the 
years following the Civil War. Dr. Nat Barbour was the only ruling elder 
who could lead in public prayer. Francis Snowden used a big book of prayers 
in his home. ‘There was no young men’s prayer meeting until our mother 
gathered together a few boys of her Sunday School class in the church and 
coached them herself to utter simple petitions to God. A faithful group con- 
tinued this assembling together on Sunday nights for a year or two and early 
in the nineties a Christian Endeavor Society was formed at Goshen church. It 
became the most popular gathering of young people in the entire county on 
Sunday evenings for several years. Boys and girls for the first time in the 
history of the church were trained to take part in public religious meetings. 
The result has been incalculable in the lives of that generation. Some of these 
same young people, now in middle life, are gifted singers and talented public 
speakers for no other reason than the start they received at Old Goshen church. 


OLD RECORD OF ELDERS AND DEACONS 

The elders of the Old Goshen church were, according to name and ordina- 
tion from 1839 down’ to our, own day: Dr. R..N. Barbour, June jue aoe 
Elias Huffman, April 21, 1865; Allen Adams, June 4, 1870; Frank S. Bar- 
bour,., Januaryse26,.18733 Ry. J.) Woolfolk, July fl, * 10772 eG eee 
June 17, 1883; Dr. A. M. Morrison, May 6, 1894; L. D. Magruder, May 6, 
1894; COW. Rule, May 6; 13894: J. H. Huffman, Aneust laste otelopne ce 
Pierce, February 1. 19.14:°M. A Collies July) 22, 19233 

The deacons of the church of whom we have records were: Benjamin 
W. Duerson; Robert J. Woolfolk, June 23, 1861; Milo A. Shrader, June 23, 
1861; Frank Barbour, June 4, 1870; W. T. Duerson, June 4, 1870; Alex 
B. Duerson, September 8, 1872: Thos. Chrisler, June 24, 1877: Chas. Collier, 
September 4,, 1881; Jas. H. Huffman, June “17, 1883; UL. De *Masender 
J. C. Pierce, May 6, 1894; R. B. Woolfolk, May 6, 1894; Wesley King, June 
7, 1963; Virgil B. Snowden, June 7, 1903; J. P. Woolfolk, Juiy 18, 1920; 
JobD .DOtohi, July oe2, ee 

Deacon Ben Duerson was known to everybody as “‘Uncle Ben.’ He 
was a very active and useful deacon. He and a brother lived at the Pounds 
farm, which they owned and worked together. The tract of land was large. 
In due season the brother died and left ‘‘Uncle Ben,’’ who was a bachelor, to 
manage the farm alone and look after the interest and inheritance of his niece 
‘““Puss’’ Duerson. “‘Uncle Ben’’ was as careful of her welfare and as particular 
about her making what he considered a good match and marriage as if she had 


ANZOLUSCOUNTRYs CHURCH Lh 


been his own child. She had a girlish romance with a rather prominent young 
man in Danville, but the engagement was broken. Then she met a Presby- 
terian minister some years her senior by the name of M. G. Knight. He was 
a colporteur of the American Bible Society and had an office in Louisville 
where he was actively engaged in the book trade of the churches. In _ his 
visits to Goshen neighborhood he met and paid his addresses to ‘‘Puss’’ Duer- 
son and a love match was the result. They were married at the beginning 
of the Civil War and for some years Rev. Mr. Knight was a resident minister 
in the community. Mr. Dinsmore was at that time pastor of the church; but 
he and Mr. Knight were congenial, intimate friends. Mr. Dinsmore finally gave 





PRO JACOB COORTR 
Of Centre College 


up the pastorate because the feelings of the Barbours, Snowdens, and other 
Southern families were sensitive to Mr. Dinsmore’s intense Union sentiments. 
Dr. Nat Barbour, the leading elder, forbade the singing of the old hymn, 
“Show pity, Lord; oh Lord, forgive; let a repenting rebel live.’’ Mr. Knight 
introduced Rev. Mr. Trimble, the successor of Mr. Dinsmore, and moderated the 
meeting which called Rev. John Rule to the field after Mr. Trimble had gone. 
Mr. Knight frequently supplied the pulpit at Goshen and Harrods Creek 
between pastors. Mr. Trimble was a Union man who had left Eastern Ten- 
nessee because of political persecution; and when he arrived at Goshen he 
stayed in the home of Dr. Nat Barbour and maintained an absolute silence on 
war issues. They were greatly taken by surprise when it afterward developed 
that he was also a Union man. Rev. Mr. Rule came for a hearing in November, 
1864, on the invitation of Dr. Nat Barbour. It seems that the Cleland ministers 
knew him and may have suggested his name to the church. Anyhow, when 
he came upon the ground to begin work the last of January, 1865, ‘Uncle 
Ben’’ and the other deacons had done. their work; and Mrs. Duerson 
mother of Mrs. Knight, drove the new pastor around to call upon the Magruders 


78 DOR JECT eal heteved ys sees 


and other families. The consequence was that Rev. Mr. Knight became an inti- 
mate friend of the new pastor, as his wife already was of Mary Woolfolk, 
the young organist and choir leader, with whom the new pastor developed a 
romance when he came to board in the home of Mrs. Adaline Woolfolk. So in 
June, 1866, there was another wedding at which Rev. M. G. Knight officiated. 
A life-long friendship between the families of the two ministers was the result. 
Mr. Knight made fortunate investments in Chicago real estate about the time of 
the great fire in 1871 and became quite wealthy. His family were bright and 
interesting young people who often returned to the old home neighborhood. 
Mr. Knight lived to an advanced age but was for many years a paralytic. This 
mention of his sojourn and connection with the Old Goshen church is due to 


history and his own worthy memory. 


THE RESTORATION MOVEMENT 


The Goshen church went with the Southern Assembly while the writer's 


father was pastor, when the division in the Louisville Presbytery and the Ken- 
tucky Synod occurred in 1867-8. ‘The death of James Stapleton Crutchfield a 
few years after the close of the Civil War left the main body of the Goshen 
membership Southern in sympathy, and it was the natural and inevitable thing 
for the congregation to go that way. ‘These transition times and seasons are 
always trying; and right now the future of the entire neighborhood hinges on the 
vision and revival of the old church and community. The few, discerning, active 
leaders of the younger generation are well aware of this fact and have already 
discussed it in a congregational conference. ‘The suggestion of Mr. W. B. Belknap 
that the people of the church give special kindly heed to the welfare and welcome 
of the working people of the community around comes with peculiar force and 
influence. Mr. and Mrs. Belknap occupy an old homestead whose traditions were 
deeply sympathetic toward the education and social training of working people. 
whether as slaves or as white laborers. For a hundred years the working fam- 
ilies living on the old Magruder farm were intelligent, thrifty and self-respecting 
folks. This was the attitude of the Crutchfields, Woolfolks, and other liberal- 
minded households; and Mr. Belknap brings to the living problems of the 
church and community a trained and generous intelligence that his fellow- 
communicants and fellow-citizens will respond to. At this particular congre- 
gational meeting we understand that a program of future church and neighbor- 
hood restoration was agreed upon; and hard and discouraging as the outlook has 
appeared in times past, the future now seems inevitable. 

Mr. W. N. Taylor and wife, whose summer home is at Goshen, have been 
eminently liberal and loyal to the restoration movement mentioned above. Mr. 
Taylor was present at the recent meeting of the church people and expressed 
himself pointedly and practically as to what should be done. He has always been 
a wide-a-wake churchman. He has mentioned in conversation an instance of 
where his business necessitated his location in a certain community where there 
was no church nearby. So he at once interested his friends and neighbors in 
such a spiritual enterprise and a new church soon filled the needs of that Vicinity. 
He believes in a thoroughly down-to-date attitude toward the responsibilities of 
a church in the community; and the Old Goshen church will become the New 


Ne OL ORGO ON Re CHUkGr 79 


Goshen church as it addresses itself courageously and unselfishly to these spiritual 
and social tasks. There is plenty of new and capable leadership in the church 
now; and both pastor and people at Goshen and West Goshen are in constant, 
vital touch with the Home Mission Committee of the Louisville Presbytery, which 
is supplying the men and supplementing the means that will put this century-old 
congregation on new and enduring foundations of usefulness and service to the 
Master. 


CHARI Raga, LUL 





Story of Dominie Sears 


Che uy 

N the old New Jersey neighborhood near Princeton, where the 

writer's father, Rev. John Rule, was born, lived the Reverend Ja- 

cob Sears. ‘‘Dominie’’ Sears, as the people called him. His congre- 

gation embraced a territory of about six miles, and the community 

day schools were the meeting places of his several Sunday Schools. 

Leaders were to be found for these sacred schools in each congregation, which 
assembled at two o'clock each Sunday afternoon and had a good attendance. 

The pastor held catechetical services once each week in different parts of 
his parish at different school hours, when he questioned the children. Father 
never forgot the books nor the lessons given by the good man of God. He always 
remembered the scripture verse: “The natural man receiveth not the things of 
God: neither can he know them for they are spiritually discerned.’’ In those far- 
off days Nature and her works were regarded as under a terrible curse and as 
hostile to religion. To our pilgrim fathers that melancholy philosophy accounted 
for mortal misery and folly; and there was no doubt in the world that the 
curse of sin had permeated and polluted our human fabric throughout. But the 
vision of salvation and deliverance embraced the removal of this primal curse, 
and enabled the redeemed soul to sing with Isaac Watts: 


“‘No more let sin and sorrow grow, 
Nor thorns infest the ground; 

He comes to make his blessings flow 
-Far as the curse is found. 


Dominie Sears was a man about five feet eight inches in height and weighed 
about 250 pounds. He did not wear a beard. He had a good voice and used 
notes in preaching, but no written sermons. He wore gold rimmed glasses. 
What impressed him most upon father’s memory was the character of the funeral 
discourses and the circumstances under which they were delivered. He recalled 
four or five down to old age. There was a Mr. Sydam who fell dead at his 
woodpile one day. He was a laborer, a plain, ungodly man, profane and dis- 
sipated. The funeral was held at the house, and the text was, ‘‘Boast not thyself 
of tomorrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.’’ The people 
sang that sorrowful old hymn: 


“Death, ‘tis a melancholy day 

To those who have no God; 

When the poor soul is forced away 
To seek its last abode! 


When a certain old man died in the community, Dominie Sears took as his 
text: “The days of the years of our life are three score years and ten; and 
if by reason of strength they be four score years: yet is their strength labor 
and sorrow; for it is soon cut off and we fly away.” 


ANZOLDSCOUNTRY] GHURGH 81 


OLD TIME FUNERALS 


Dominie Sears was regarded as remarkable for the aptness of his texts and 
remarks befitting each funeral occasion. In the neighborhood lived a young 
man of great promise, the son of a Dr. Schenck, the physician. He 
was the apple of the eye to his parents and upon him they depended for the 
future. But he was taken ill and died. The poor parents were utterly broken 
hearted. Dominie Sears took as his text: “‘Thou destroyest the hope of man.” 
It was a solemn and mournful discourse, with the pitiless fate of impending 


death and doom pictured in words of memorable admonition to the living. 





CHARLES HODGE, D. D. 


Professor of Theology at Princeton Seminary when John 
Rule was a student there in Civil War days. 


A fourth funeral remembered by father was that of an old lady who 
had died. The good pastor stood at the head of the casket and repeated his 
text: ‘‘When a few days are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall 
not return.” You could see Dominie Sears going to or returning from a 
funeral, upon his horse, wearing a long sash, with white ribbon for the 
young and black ribbon for the old who had passed away. He was a man of 
family and lived upon a farm. He drove to church in a carriage, with a 
servant, and his family sat in the old-fashioned box pews. When father 
was in Princeton Seminary and preached at the old Six Mile Run church, 
Dominie Sears was there with his family and sat in the pulpit and made the 
closing prayer. It was he who formed father’s earliest and most lasting ideal 
of the gospel ministry. 


THE FELLOWSHIP OF SUFFERING 


Supersensitive in spirit, this mournful and melancholy attitude toward 
Nature and Death occasioned the most profound and painful suffering of our 
own entire spiritual experience when we returned home from college and 


82 HE LIGHs SbEARERS 


began our re-adjustment to life and its problems. We did not as yet realize that 
we were in the midst of a dying social order; that the Civil War period was 
passing away; and that a new century was at hand with an altogether new 
attitude toward Nature and Society. Some roots of scientific teaching had been 
implanted in the class room at Old Centre; but we had to battle this all 
out alone. 





ATE XAIN DER. dy eMeG iin De sD: 


Professor of Ecclesiastic, Homiletic and Pastoral Theology, 
Princeton Seminary. 


Yet somehow the autumn was always a memorable season to us. It 
was indeed the end of the old; but the seeds of the new were implanted 
deeply with the hope and promise of spring. So even out of the old faith 
and philosophy came a call to the gospel ministry that gradually drew us 
onward to our destined life work. Bernard Shaw says in the preface to one 
of his recent plays that he lived nearly forty years with his own mother and 
yet they never understood each other. ‘He said that young folks falling in 
love, or friends meeting for the first time, know each other on the instant 
by the instincts of the heart in a way he and his mother never did. ‘That 
Was a tragical saying. But God moves in a mysterious way to bring these 
souls of ours around. Father was a typical Puritan, with a serious and 
eafnest view of life. His health was pertect from his childhood up and he 
could sustain the test of sorrow and loss, of grief and misfortune with the 
courage of a hero. He resembled Dominie Sears remarkably; and perhaps 
it was the awe and terror with which we regarded the old religious attitude 
that made it so difficult in those earlier years of struggle and sickness and 
despair to find the comfort and cheer in the philosophy of human mortality 
and death. It paralyzed our spiritual initiative and seemed to set an insuperable 
barrier in our approach to the holy pulpit. But.by close study and analysis, 
by patient thought and reflection the middle wall of partition between the 
old viewpoint and the new was broken down; and our father not only assisted 


ANOLE *GOUNTHYS GOHURGE 83 


in our ordination to the ministry, but went with us time after time on 
funeral occasions and trained us into meeting and discharging this most delicate 
and difficult of all pastoral duties. He was a man who had no fear of 
death. He had been with his parents and twin brother when they passed away; 
and he had always cultivated a calm and common-sense viewpoint of death 
and dissolution. As a consequence, when he came to the community as a 
pastor he soon took rank as an unusual minister on funeral occasions. 


- moma 8 





JINN BSS (CO. UM ROMEMERANGD ID ID) 
Professor of Church History. Princeton Seminary. 


A PATRIARCHAL PASTOR 


On the second Sabbath of September, 1869, he was called upon to 
conduct the funeral of Warner DeHaven, brother of Judge Sam DeHaven, 
who had died near Harrods Creek. This young man was in middle life. 
He had been engaged to a Miss Pendleton of Goshen, and the time of the 
wedding was set. She had another lover who made the declaration to his friends 
that if he could but see the bride before she went to the altar, she would 
most certainly marry him instead of Warner DeHaven. He did manage to 
see her, and the inevitable happened. Disconsolate for a time, the rejected 
lover Lore his loss with dignity; and in later days paid his addresses to a 
Miss Taylor, whom he married and who made him a happy companion. 
This home was now broken up by the sad visitation of death; and father 
took as his text: ‘“‘Forasmuch as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, 
He also himseif likewise took part of the same; that through death He might 
destroy him that had the power of death, that is the devil, and deliver them 
who, through fear of death, were all their life-time subject to bondage.”’ 

Judge DeHaven said it was the finest funeral sermon he had ever listened to; 
and from that time on our mother accompanied father in these ministries of 
consolation, singing with great sweetness and acceptance. He himself had a 
clear and musical voice and joined with her in rendering these sad occasions 





84 (hoe LIGHTS BEARERS 


less terrible to torn and bleeding hearts. The thought that Jesus had partaken 
of human life and death in His own person in order to save and deliver us | 
from sin and death was a profound philosophy of comfort. The first funeral 
we attended with father after our own entrance into the ministry was at Cave 
Hill Chapel upon the death of a wife in the community. He soon afterward 
went with us to Crothersville, Ind., where a young woman had died; and on 
another occasion in the same town when a sweet young high school girl 





WILLIAMS Hy GREENS Dw DD. 


Professor of Oriental and Old Testament Literature, 
Princeton Seminary. 


had passed away. ‘Then again he was with us at the funeral of a grand 
old man at Henryville. who died at the age of ninety-three. On each and 
all of these occasions father was at his best; and this companionship in the most 
dificult and trying duty that a pastor has to perform sustained and upheld 
our own efforts with wonderful effectiveness) He was long one of the 
patriarchal pastors of our home county, nowhere so welcome and experienced 
as at weddings and funerals. Our mother says that his ideal of Dominie Sears 
was carried out in his own pastoral visitations, when he, too, catechized 
the children of the household. 


A PROPHET OF COLONIAL TIMES 


When father was a young divinity student in Lexington, some good man 
recommended his purchasing the sermons of Samuel Davies, the great Virginia 
preacher who predicted in the French and Indian War that Washington would 
prove the man God raised to save the colonies. Davies was the idol of 
Patrick Henry’s eloquence, and he was the beloved President of Old Prince- 
ton. Davies was called ‘‘a master of solemnity,’’ and yet he was such a 
graceful speaker and finished logician that he successfully defended the 
right of free religious assembly in the Old Dominion, and preached in the 


AN OUD SCOUN TRY CHURGH 85 


presence of the King of England without fear or favor. This great preacher 
moulded father’s style of sermon making, and his sincere earnestness in the 
pulpit. Thus it was an easy matter for him to become an ideal of our 
own in those fundamentals of human freedom and constitutional government 
which the Presbyterian Church did so much to defend and establish in colo- 
nial times. It was also the tradition of Samuel Davies that revealed to us 
the power and possibility of a man of God consecrated in the cause of 
truth and liberty. In a word, he was a preacher of righteousness that never 
feared the face of man—a forerunner and founder of education, freedom 
and progress. 


GHA LAGE han 





Che Hilkingtons of “Old Hrunsmick”’ 
vue 7 : 


Y father was born within the bounds of New Brunswick pres- 
bytery, New Jersey. This old Presbytery was named for the 
town of New Brunswick, which was originally a mere ferry 
across Raritan river. The town did not derive its present name 

until 1714, when from a group of primitive settlers the place arose to the 
dignity of being called after the House of Brunswick. The first inhabitants 
were of Dutch descent. They had a church of 78 members in 1717; but 
the Presbyterians did not get together in an organized form until a few 
years later. In the year 1726 they called the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, eldest 
son of Rev. William Tennent, founder of the “‘Log College,’ to be their pastor. 
He was the eldest of four brothers who entered the sacred ministry, William, 
John and Charles being the others. 


GREAT PREACHERS OF ““OLD BRUNSWICK’ 


Gilbert Tennent was a native of Ireland and came over to America with 
his father at the age of thirteen years. He was educated at the Log 
College by his father. He was converted at fourteen, was licensed to preach 
at twenty-two and was ordained as pastor at New Brunswick at twenty-three. 
He was a young man of force and enthusiasm and got great encouragement 
from an old Dutch Calvinist pastor who preceded him and wrote him a very 
kind letter of advice and sympathy. After that it was the young man’s chief 
aim to bring people under conviction of sin and to see them soundly con- 
verted. ~ He instituted the old time sacramental meetings and brought a 
goodly number into the light of salvation. In the year 1739 Evangelist 
George Whitefield visited New Brunswick and found joy and_ fellowship 
with Pastor Tennent. He held several services in the New Brunswick church 
and stirred the town so that on his return in the following April his audiences 
ranged from 2,000 to 8,000 people, and he had to speak in the open, stand- 
ing on a wagon. The church was crowded with women. The men _ stood 
outside upon a sloping meadow. Tradition says that Whitefield began in 
a colloquial style, with a rather tame exordium, somewhat as Patrick Henry 
is described as doing; then his voice arose with an astonishing compass and 
power and penetrated to the very soul. His bursts of heavenly fire simply 
electrified the auditor and brought him under conviction ere he was aware. 

Both in New Brunswick and at the Log College Whitefield set standards 
of spiritual eloquence that descended to after generations among the ministers 
of God. He was very devoted to William Tennent and took him on an 
evangelistic tour of New England. Tennent at the time was a man of bold 
and impetuous manner and appearance in the pulpit. He was tall and com- 
manding in stature. He wore a loose great coat with a leathern girdie round 


ANBOVOSsGOUN TRY GHUURCH 87 


his waist after the example of John the Baptist. He was unsparing when he 
denounced sin, and his epithets were scathing and merciless. ‘Hypocrites must 
either soon be converted or enraged at his preaching,’ said Whitefield. He 
is a son of Thunder, and I find doth not fear the faces of men.” 

Yet it was a tradition among the elders of the church at New Bruns- 
wick, Dr. Cannon, Dr. Scott, and others ‘‘that Gilbert Tennent was regarded 
as a proud austere man, and that he had not the affections of the people in the 
degree that his brother William had. William was a man of superior talents, 
and ready at all kinds of meetings.’’ This younger brother, William, was 
born overseas, came to America with his father at the age of thirteen, was 
educated at the Log College, studied for the ministry under his father, and 
then went to New Brunswick to finish his preparation with Gilbert. He was 
a very gentle and lovable youth and greatly endeared himself to the congrega- 
tion as his brother’s assistant. 


FATHER COMFORT 


The pastor of my father’s mother was known as Father Comfort. He 
was a member of the New Brunswick Presbytery and lived near the little village 
town of Kingston, where his charge was, his home being on a farm. This 
ideal of the rural pastor made a great impression upon my father in boy- 
hood and he followed it to the letter in his own after ministry. Pastor 
Comfort was a tall, spare man, very much in keeping with his name, for he 
Was a true son of consolation to all his distressed or sorrowing parishioners. 
He was kind and affectionate, like William Tennent, and often came to talk 
to my father’s mother when she was too ill to go to church. He loaned 
her his copy of Josephus and never overlooked the children. Father was left- 
handed and one day when he offered that hand to Pastor Comfort the good 
man drew back his right hand behind with a comical gesture. This dear 
old man of God remained at Kingston nearly fifty years and wanted to 
round out his pastorate of half a century; but the congregation, for some 
reason did not see fit to gratify this desire and it nearly broke his heart. My 
father never forgot this little tragedy. Pastor Comfort was often called 
upon to participate in the exercises at the New Brunswick church; and when 
father visited “‘Brunswick’’ as a boy he naturally fell under the spell and 
influence of this famous old Presbyterian town. 


UNCLE JOHN AND AUNT JANE 


John Pilkington married my father’s sister Jane and lived at New 
Brunswick. He and a man by the name of Camp formed a partnership in 
a big blacksmith shop. They did all sorts of repair work, and employed a 
number of skilled mechanics. They prospered and John Pilkington bought 
a comfortable home. Here his eldest son and daughter, Albin and Addie, 
were born. The mother, ‘Aunt Jane,’’ as she was fondly known all her 
life, was a large, handsome fleshy woman, with beaming blue eyes and ‘a 
smile that embraced everybody. She had the family high temper; but she 
always said she had learned to be angry and sin not by never letting the sun 
go down on her wrath. ‘“‘Aunt Jane’’ deserved to figure in the pages of 
a Dickens or Thackeray. She had a wonderful stock of humor and common 


88 ihe LIGHT ae DEARERS 


sense and an abounding store of anecdote. She grew up under the religious 
tradition of the Methodists in New Brunswick and was a joyful convert 
and member of that church. Her brother, Peter, likewise found God at 
the old Methodist ‘‘mourner’s bench.’’ It was the grief of Aunt Jane's life 
that her husband did not seek and find salvation. But in his old age, two 
years before his death, he was joyfully converted and came into the Metho- 
dist church with her; so that the cup of her happiness was full at last. 
He was an extremely jovial man, a boon companion, a kind and obliging 
fellow with everybody; and sometimes a man of that type is hardest to touch 
with the gospel. 

Aunt Jane and Uncle John came to Kentucky in 1850 with Mother 
Rule and her son Schenck. They had buried a little child back in New 
Brunswick, their eldest born; and Mother Rule was now an invalid. They 
went to the town of Perryville and there Uncle John and Mr. Camp again 
set up their blacksmith shop. Aunt Jane’s eldest sister, Aunt Lizzie, had 
married William Armstrong and was living in Perryville, where her husband 
and his brother Charles had a big meal and flour and carding mill. My 
father came to Kentucky the next year and worked in this mill as a boy 
apprentice. Aunt Jane’s son and daughter, Albin and Addie, spent their early 
years in Perryville and saw the great battle there during the Civil War. 
Here her other children were born; and about the year 1863 she and Uncle 
John moved to Lexington, whither the other members of her own family had 
preceded her—the brothers to establish a buggy and carriage shop and _ the 
Armstrong brothers-in-law to establish a flouring mill. Aunt Jane set up a 
boarding house on her arrival in Lexington. She was a very thrifty woman 
and the big three-story, old-fashioned Kentucky Home on High Street housed 
a large and happy family of student boarders for many years. Aunt Jane 
always had room for everybody. She could make a place at table and put 
up an extra bed or cot in the hall on a moment’s notice; and her hospitality 
was boundless. 

Uncle John Pilkington was a great wit and practical joker on all occa- 
sions. Mother relates an amusing instance. When she and father were married 
and had finished their bridal trip to Cincinnati and Lexington, they went 
to Millersburg, where he was pastor. A letter came that her mother was 
wanting her at home in Goshen on account of illness. Father put her on 
the train at Paris for Lexington and she stopped at Aunt Jane’s for dinner, 
before leaving for Louisville. The family were delighted to see her at Aunt 
Jane's, for she won their hearts from the first. Uncle John was at table 
when his son John came in and expressed much surprise that his young 
bride Aunt Mary was there. He asked for the groom at once, his Uncle John. 
His father, with a very serious countenance told him that the bride jnd 
groom had a few words and parted! The youth stared back a moment with 
a puzzled look, then blurted out: ‘‘Well, if they parted, I know it was 
Uncle John’s fault and not Aunt Mary’s.”’ 


HEARTS THAT BEAT AS ONE 
Albin Pilkington went into the wood work room of the carriage shop 
with my father’s brothers in Lexington and learned the business thoroughly. 


ANGOLDDSCOUN Raye CHURGH 89 


He took it over after they sold out and opened in the lumber trade. Albin 
prospered and became a leading young carriage maker, to which business he 
added a harness shop. He was a devoted son to his mcther, Aunt Jane, and 
was one of the finest men that ever lived in Lexington. About this time 
he became acquainted with a bright and lovely young college girl by the 
name of Kate Webb. She was a native of West Virginia, and upon the 
death of her parents had come to Lexington to live with an uncle whose 
home was out of town on a farm. He sent her to Sayre Institute, where 
she was graduated with high honors at the head of her class. It was a love 
match of olden days and these young people, Albin Pilkington and Kate 
Webb, were lovers to the end of the chapter. She returned to the old home 
in West Virginia, where she was married in the bosom of a Southern com- 
munity famed for its neighborly hospitality and kindness. She was the 
second bride in the family after my mother; and when she and her husband 
returned again to Lexington there was great rejoicing and a big reception, which 
father and mother attended. She and cousin Kate became devoted to each 
other with a fondness ‘‘passing the love of women.”’ 

Cousin Kate’s home rivalled Aunt Jane's for generous hospitality; not 
the showy, pretentious kind, but the open-house and open-hearted sort that 
welcomes you any time you come, whether unexpected or not. And _ the 
slices of mince pie that Cousin Kate served to her boy visitors remained in 
memory forever! With a beautiful and beaming face she met you, and the 
warmth of her embrace was almost suffocating in fondness! She lost one 
or more of her first born children and suffered the pangs of sorrow incident 
to such a test of mother love; but God gave her other children to be proud of; 
and they grew up in an atmosphere of culture and intelligence and refinement that 
was amazingly simple and happy. The years brought reverses in business 
to cousin Albin, the husband and father, through no fault of his own; and in 
the panic years of the nineties this fine old Kentucky family passed through 
a struggle that tested them to the uttermost. But, though it cost an unjust 
and painful loss of health of this noble pair, they left after them a record 
of honor and honesty that would make these sordid, degenerate days scarlet 
w'th shame! The second generation of sons and daughters faced the problems 
of education and self-support with cheer and courage and the home, now 
a big boarding house like Aunt Jane’s, located in Frankfort, was a veritable 
temple of hospitality and good fellowship to every stranger and sojourner. 


AUNT MAGGIE MAKES A ROMANCE 

Cousin Kate had a sister, Maggie Webb, who came to Lexington to live 
with her in the days of her early married life. This sister was a _ second 
mother to the children. In due time she married Orin P. Van Meter, of 
Pittsburgh, who had known her worth back in their native West Virginia. 
He and his mother lived in the Smoky City, where Orin was in the real 
estate business. They owned a cozy little cottage on a beautiful side street 
between the great mansion-lined avenues. This cottage was a House Beside 
the Road to every friend and relative and stranger guest. Its hospitality was 
more than abounding. Aunt Maggie, as we called her, had a heart like her 
sister Kate, that took in the whole world, or as much of it as was humanly 


90 THE LIGHT. BEARERS 


possible. She and Uncle Orin had no children and they adopted everybody 
who needed their love. 

Aunt Maggie was a great church worker. She was very thrifty; and 
when it was decided that every member of the missionary society should 
earn the money given to the cause, Aunt Maggie made and sold a kind of 
pickle that everybody relished, and turned lots of income into the treasury. 
She went to places of need and service that even the wealthy could not reach; 
and the pastor used to say that he was never called to the house of sickness 
or sorrow that he did not find Aunt Maggie had been there before him. 
She once told the story of an overcoat that passed from either a sweat shop 
or a house of poverty to some wealthy home. It was infected with scarlet 
fever and several members of the family died. Aunt Maggie said it was a 
terrible reminder of the fact that we are members one of another, and that 
our very lives are often bound up for good or ill with our less fortunate brother 
and sister human beings. 

About the year 1897 our mother wrote a letter to Aunt Maggie telling 
her that she had a nephew, Robert Woolfolk, and the son of a dear life-long 
friend, Stapleton Crutchfield, who had just opened up in the fruit and produce 
commission business in Pittsburg. They were strangers in the big city; and 
mother enjoined Aunt Maggie to remember that they were away from the 
old home church and Sunday School at Goshen, and from the comfort and 
cheer of the old fireside. Aunt Maggie took the letter at once to her husband’s 
office. It was Saturday; and they together found the young Kentucky strangers 
and brought them home from church to dinner on Sunday. In due season a 
romance came about between the senior member of the firm of Crutchfield 
% Woolfolk and Aunt Maggie’s niece, Alice Pilkington. She came with her 
sister, who was in ill health, for a visit to Aunt Maggie’s; and the Kentucky 
boys were invited out to dinner. Thus two of the oldest Southern families 
formed an alliance of love that has established another great-hearted home 
and household in the city of Pittsburgh. 


CLOSING SCENES 


In due time Cousin Kate came to spend days and weeks with her daughter, 
who, like herself, was an honor graduate and teacher at Sayre Institute in 
Lexington. Cousin Kate and Aunt Maggie went with the Crutchfields to the 
Pacific Coast; and in these journeyings Cousin Kate’s great love of Nature and 
native land was inspiring to witness. Cousin Albin passed away, and then 
she made her home with the children. Up to the last she never lost her 
smile of love and her embrace of fond affection. The little cottage home of Aunt 
Maggie became vacant by death; and the great city surged onward, seemingly 
oblivious of the “‘House by the Side of the Road.’’ But the light of love 
beamed ever bright in the big Crutchfield mansion; for the hearts that dwelt 
there had inherited the devotion and generosity of olden days. At last the 
call came to Cousin Kate, the sweet, gray-haired mother; and on Wednesday, 
December 3, 1924, she was brought back to the old home at Lexington, 
Ky., and laid to rest in the beautiful ‘‘City of the Dead.’’ The Mantle of 
Winter enwrapped her couch of repose in the bosom of Mother Earth. The 


PAN OLIY COUNTRYS CER Sf 


chill winds sighed through the evergreens; and the few lingering birds were 
silent amid the leafless branches. It was the passing of a generous and 
glorious era of Old Time Kentuckians. We have traced its beginnings far 
back and have endeavored to enshrine some of its characters in enduring 
memory and love. ‘The heart is bowed with grief beside the bier; and human 
faith is tested to the uttermost as we give up our dead. But just across 
the Border lies the Land of Light, the Home, Sweet Home of the Soul, where 
all God's children shall gather in the Afterwhile! 


CHAPIRER @xu5 





44 prt MOR sep ae | + 4> 49 Cre te letowsiare Ol. ” 
sre Marrads Creek Hresbyterian Church 


EN or twelve years ago we wrote and published the story of the Old 

Goshen Presbyterian Church. We included the following paragraph 

about the Harrods Creek Church and its organization some years 

before the Civil War: ‘‘Rev. Mr. McCown was the organizer and 

builder of the Harrods Creek Church on the River Road above Louisville, which 

for many years was a branch of the Old Goshen Church, but is now the very 

center of the moving tide of population from Louisville to the country around. 

Not far away a big consolidated community school is now being built, which 

will mean inestimable privileges to all classes of people. In the same way 

the church should be socialized and dedicated to community work. A new 

tide of population is slowly approaching the Old Goshen Church and com- 

munity, and ere long will occupy the old farms and homesteads. ‘There is 

no other church in the village; so its revival is only a matter of time; and 

we have faith and assurance that the new generation will prove worthy of so 
historic a heritage.” 

This movement of Rev. Mr. McCown to establish a church at Harrods Creek 
was very commendable. He was a man who had the confidence, and was 
educating the children and youth, of the entire country around; and the 
movement to build this new church was primarily Presbyterian but non-secta- 
rian. Mr. McCown in his school work educated young men like Dr. Jacob 
Ditzler, who became gifted preachers of other denominations; and in _ his 
mind when he built the Harrod’s Creek Church there was the purpose of 
serving the entire community, for no church of any denomination stood in 
that entire region. So the people of the community supported the enterprise 
on the ground of its being a truly union meeting house. Our mother says 
that it was at one time called a union church, with the understanding 
that other denominations should have the liberty of its pulpit when not 
occupied by the Presbyterians. Mr. McCown himself was the first pastor 
and the Goshen Church was the mother organization, and the Harrod’s Creek 
Church has never been a separate church organization as many people presume. 
But the Harrod’s Creek Church dated from about 1855 when the old brick 
meeting house on the Mount place fell into decay. This brick church had 
been used up to this time as a church and school; but the Goshen church 
had been built some thirty years before by Gideon Blackburn. Yet the 
Harrod’s Creek church was built for the convenience of many leading families 
who had formerly attended the old red brick church on the Mount place when 
Dr. Blackburn was the pastor. 

Mr. McCown served Goshen and Harrod’s Creek churches with eminent 
satisfaction. The village of Harrod’s Creek at that time was still a great 
point on the way from Kentucky to Indiana, as there was a splendid ferry 
from the mouth of Harrod’s Creek to Utica across the river. Then, too, the 


mine OLD COUN Thay GhURGH a) 


Harrod’s Creek church and the Utica Presbyterian church were united in 
sympathy and religious work very much as the Charlestown and Goshen 
churches were linked together for so many _ jyears. After Mr. McCown 
came the Rev. J. H. Dinsmore, who served Harrod’s Creek and Utica with 
very great fidelity. The ferry made it easy for the Utica people to come 
over and attend service, and they were devoted to Mr. Dinsmore. Our mother 
says the people of this generation can hardly realize the closeness and intimacy 
between these congregations, separated though they were by the river. This 
continued for years and years, and the Harrods Creek church grew and gathered 
to itself a very substantial class of people. The building was put up by two carpen- 
ters, slaves of Mr. McCown, William and Henry Morris, splendid working-men 
brought by Mr. McCown from Hopkinsville when he came to Goshen. 





RDV weiss pea wleC OWN, (De Ds. 
Founder of Harrods Creek Church. 


PIONEER THOMAS CLELAND 


Although the Harrods Creek church does not date back as far as some of 
the pioneer churches of the county, it has a story that connects it with some 
of the greatest preachers and periods in Kentucky history. Two of the finest 
women of the congregation, Mrs. Richards and Mrs. Chrisler, were daughters of 
a very noted Presbyterian pioneer minister, Rev. Thomas Cleland, who landei 
with his father’s family at the mouth of Goose Creek, just below Harrods 
Creek, as far back as the year 1789. So that the story of this old church con- 
tains the record of people who figured in the same Indian fights and struggles 
that raged around the old Harrods Creek Baptist church at Brownsboro. Dr. 
Cleland has left us a vivid story of his own life, from which we take the inci- 
dents of his family descending the Ohio and the perils amid which they landed 
on Kentucky soil: ‘“Thomas Cleland, the writer of this brief sketch, was born in 
Fairfax county, Va., May 22, 1778. About the third or fourth year of his 


74 LE IG iia ATE Tes 


age, he removed with the family into Montgomery county, Md., where he re- 
mained for eight years. In regard to his ancestry he knows but little. His 
father was an humble mechanic; his principal calling was that of making spin- 
ning wheels, but he could do almost anything in wood or iron, that anyone 
else could do. He was very poor as to this world’s goods, and withal very 
feeble in his constitution. He had only an ordinary English education, but he 
possessed a good share of common sense, and his intellect was rather above the 
common order. Beyond my father I have no knowledge of my paternal ancestry. 


‘“‘My mother’s maiden name was Richards. She was a plain woman, a 
kind mother, and in domestic life rather excelling than otherwise, in regard to 
economy and good management. Father and mother were both highly respected 
by their neighbors and all acquaintances. Neither of them ever publicly professed 
religion. They were very normal and friendly toward religious people, and 
raised their family in good repute. 

“In the fall of 1789 father made his arrangements to remove to Kentucky. 
Washington county, where he had procured an entry of 500 acres of forest 
land. My maternal grandmother resided near Red Stone, as it was then called, 
on the Monongahela River. He started September 23rd, and arrived October 9th, 
nearly two months, and there remained until father built a flat-boat, in which 
to descend the Ohio river. We left the last day of November; I was in my 
twelfth year, and on account of a recent illness had to be carried to the boat. 
The descent of the river in these times was perilous; frequent attacks were made 
by the Indians on boats descending, attended sometimes with severe loss of life 
and property. We ascertained that they had. made frequent attempts of this kind. 
Boats were fired on both before and behind us. But a kind providence inter- 
posed in our behalf—being safely conducted until we reached a small stream 
called Goose Creek, a short distance above Louisville, Ky. I was sick the whole 
time, confined to my bed, but soon after recovered. 

“We were compelled for want of better accommodation, to remain in our 
boat two weeks. Afterward, a small cabin about twelve feet square, was ob- 
tained, a few miles out from the river, belonging to Col. Richard Taylor, father 
ot the renowned hero of Monteray and Beuna Vista. ‘This residence was in the 
edge of a dense cane-brake. Here we were saluted every night with the howling 
of wolves. 

‘“‘In the meantime father had gone to look for his land, and if possible, to 
have erected a hasty building for our accommodation. He reached the neighbor- 
hood, examined the premises, selected the spot, engaged workmen, and then was 
taken with a violent attack of pleurisy, a disease to which he was liable, and 
which ultimately ended his days. He was absent more than six weeks without 
our knowing the cause. The family was in painful suspense... The ‘Taylor 
family, old and young, were very hospitable and kind to us. William, Hancock 
and Little Zack, as General Taylor was then called, were my playmates. Mrs. 
Taylor conceived a great fondness for my mother, and treated her as a sister. 

“‘At length father returned, very feeble indeed; we had well-nigh lost him. 
About the last of April we started for our new home, at which we soon arrived 
if wagrety.; 

An old history of Jefferson county gives a sketch of the Middletown precinct 
and village, which shows that Middletown dates back to the very beginning of 


eC) swe COUIN rR yee ORG H 95 


Kentucky State history. This sketch also shows how old Harrods Creek was as 
a landing place and shipping point on the river: 

“The most remarkable feature in regard to the history of this precinct is 
that it is the oldest one in the county—-at one time the largest—it being orig- 
inally very large, and also the center oi commercial activity for this part of the 
State, and having the oldest postoffice in the State. 

“Indeed, the citizens of this locality will readily remind you that in the 
days of 1800 and during the war of 1812 the people of Louisville came here 
to buy goods and do business; that commercial products for trade were shipped 
to the mouth of Harrods Creek, there reloaded and transported to Middletown, 
where dealers in wares, goods or produce from Louisville and other little towns 
could come and buy at retail or wholesale rates as they chose.’ 

The minute book of the session at Goshen church shows that Rev. John 
Rule began a regular ministry to the Goshen and Harrods Creek churches in 
June, 1868. In the month of October, 1868, a sacramental meeting was held 
at the Harrods Creek church and Mr. Jesse Chrisler and his wife, Mrs. Mary L. 
Chrisler, daughter of pioneer Dr. Thomas Cleland, were received into church 
membership. The children of this good couple were presented for baptism on 
the same date. Now a word as to Mr. Chrisler from the old Jefferson county 


, 


history: 

“Jesse Chrisler, one of the well known residents of Jefferson county, was 
born April 9th, 1799, in Madison county, Virginia, and lived there till he 
was five or six years of age, when he came to Kentucky with his parents. He 
lived in Louisville about twenty-five years and was engaged in the grocery and 
banking business in the meantime; he then went to Harrods Creek, where we 
now find him most pleasantly situated. He was married December 12th, 1838, 
to Miss Mary L. Cleland, of Mercer county, Kentucky. They have had seven 
children, five of whom are living. Mr. and Mrs. Chrisler are members of the 
Presbyterian church. Mr. Chrisler is a well known and respected citizen.”’ 


REV. ANDREW SHERLEY 


Regarding the use of the Harrods Creek church as a union meeting house, 
the session book records that on March 28th, 1869, the session of the Harrods 
Creek church considered and adopted a resolution granting the use of the church 
to the Baptist brethren of the community for the purpose of organizing a 
church of their own and holding regular services. It is understood that the Rev. 
Andrew Sherley was the promoter of this movement; and the resolution was in- 
troduced by the Rev. M. G. Knight, a resident Presbyterian minister in Goshen 
community. Mr. Sherley was at this time pastor of the Eighteenmile Baptist 
church near LaGrange; but his home was on the river below Prospect. This 
good man deserves mention in our sketch. He was the son of wealthy par- 
ents, an only child, and a native of Louisville. His father died while he was 
still a babe; and his mother reared him and looked after his growth and educa- 
tion. He and his mother were members of the Christian church in his boyhood. 
Afterward, while visiting relatives in Trimble county, he became deeply im- 
pressed at a Baptist meeting and united with that church on profession of his 
faith. He was without doubt joyfully converted and at once entered on a min- 
istry that stamped him as an evangelist of great gifts and power. His good 


96 Aah, GCI leh as Wid hee, 


education was a help in his sermons; and he became the most beloved pastor of 
the Eighteenmile church in 1862. He was ordained to the ministry at the 
Walnut Street Baptist church in Louisville and acted as city missionary of his 
denomination far back in the forties. He then entered upon regular revival work 
in Texas with very great success. Upon his return to Kentucky he settled down 
on his farm near Prospect with his mother and accepted a call to the Eighteen- 
mile, Harrods Creek and Liberty churches in Oldham county. 

We find on the session book of the Goshen church that in May, 1870, Pas- 
tor Strother of the Shiloh Methodist church and Pastor Sherley, about whom 
we have been speaking, joined in with Pastor Rule of the Goshen church in a 
union revival service, with the understanding that every convert should have the 
liberty of uniting with whatever church they desired. This spirit of unity was 
always maintained while these three devout men remained in the ministry of the 
community. Mr. Sherley served a wide range of country and was a great favor- 
ite in the pulpit everywhere. He was a very eloquent pulpit orator and always 
a warm friend of Pastor Rule. Indeed, this friendship descended between the 
two families for more than a generation. Mr. Sherley, after a number of years 
in which he was too ill to continue his pastoral work, lay down his earthly 
labors and passed home to heaven, where he received the reward that awaits those 
who turn many to righteousness. He was a man of pure and gentle life and his 
companion was devoted to him unto the end. We mention these things to show 
how beautiful and consecrated the old religious life was in our community. 


THE GREAT BARNES REVIVAL 


The minutes of the session book from which we have quoted show that a 
memorable sacramental meeting was held at the Harrods Creek church, beginning 
Friday night, April 30, 1871. Pastor Rule was assisted in this meeting by 
the noted evangelist, Rev. George O. Barnes. Mr. Barnes was at this time, 
and for many years afterward, the most gifted and consecrated evangelist in the 
State. He left the Presbyterian church some time later and went out in the work 
on his own accord; but at the time of this meeting he was in the flower of his 
days and eloquence. [he records show that this meeting was the greatest in the 
history of the Harrods Creek church, not only by the numbers gathered in but 
by the wide and deep spiritual impression made on the community. Mr. Barnes 
was the son of a very striking Presbyterian pastor at Perryville, Kentucky, known 
as Father Barnes. This good man, who brought up his son George to the min- 
istry, was himself taught and prepared for the gospel service by the great pioneer, 
Dr. Thomas Cleland. In the Life of George O. Barnes we find the following 
beautiful sketch of his father and Dr. Cleland in the early days: 

“During the year 1815 he was an inmate of the house of Rev. Dr. Thomas 
Cleland. From first to last this Father of the Prophets thus instructed in 
theology fourteen or fifteen young men. He was poor, as were the preachers of 
his day, and at the time indicated, was pastor of New Providence church, in 
Mercer county, with a meager salary of about four hundred dollars. He lived 
in a log structure of the old style, two rooms below and two above on either 
side of an open hallway. ‘This house was filled always with visitors and stu- 
dents. When asked how he managed to live with his pittance of salary, he 
replied in his dry humor: “I couldn’t get along without the perquisites.” 


ANEOCDSEOUNTR Ys COU RGH. 97 


“What do you mean by perquisites?’’ was the puzzled rejoinder of the ques- 
tioner. ‘‘My smoke-house and barn,” said Dr. Cleland. And so it was that. his 
open-handed hospitality was supplied in those simple times. The bond of 
affection between master and pupil was never broken. Long years after the early 
days wherein the Lord provided sustenance, the coming of James Barnes, now 
a Reverend, to the house of Dr. Cleland, was an occasion of almost childish joy 
to them both. The gray-haired patriarch impatiently awaiting, would see his 
kinsman in the faith from afar off and rush to meet him with his aged steps 
and they would cast themselves into each others arms in fond embrace. Great 
were the broken exclamations of delight, and many were the tears of joy 
suddenly dashed away from the cheek.’’ 

Dr. Nat Barbour was the elder who advocated the coming of Evangelist 
Barnes very strongly and the result was the greatest ingathering in the history 
of the Harrods Creek church. This church soon drew tc itself the support of 
all substantial people from Prospect to Louisville on the River Road. ‘The 
new pastor, Rev. John Rule, took hold of the work with his customary thor- 
oughness and fidelity; and with a good horse and buggy he covered the country 
in a circuit of thirty miles or more. He made his home with Mrs. Woolfolk 
at Goshen, having married her daughter Mary. He relates with much humor 
an incident of those early days. It was the custom of Princeton Seminary stu- 
dents to wear high silk hats, which gave them a very ministerial air. So, when 
the new pastor came to Goshen, he started out one day with his top hat and 
a little negro boy behind him, horse-back. The folks forgot to tell him 
that the horse shied, and down the lane they rode at a good pace, when sud- 
denly the horse squatted to one side. The new pastor and the little darkey went 
up into the air and landed in the ditch. Woe to the top hat! It was not 
ruined, but it was discarded for country use and a soft black felt hat brought 
the minister much nearer to his people. The mud and snow were very bad at 
that time, and several liberal members fixed him up warmly in bearskin over- 
shoes and other like comforts. Indeed, this pastoral service of twelve years or 
more was the longest and the happiest in that community. The people of Utica 
came over continually and the new pastor went to them whenever possible. 


THE COLORED BAPTIST CHURCHES 


The Baptist church at Harrods Creek for the white people who proposed 
meeting in the Presbyterian church was never built. But Pastor Sherley and 
Dr. Ditzler promoted and encouraged an organization of the colored people 
into a Baptist church at Prospect. Back in the old slave days fifteen or twenty 
hands on the Ben Duerson farms came down by night to the cabins on the 
farm of Dr. Nat Barbour for religious services. Some of the farmers com- 
plained of these colored men passing through their places, and appealed to Dr. 
Barbour to stop it. But Dr. Barbour said to them that the colored people had 
souls as well as the white ones; and that he would allow and protect the 
meetings of the colored people as long as they continued. In those days Mr. 
Alfred Sherley supervised a big warehouse on the river at the Barbour landing. 
Here he bought and shipped the corn of the country round for the starch mills 
at Madison. When this industry waned the colored people moved their service 
from the cabins to the warehouse, with the consent of its owners. In due time 


98 (UHE sCIiGHITeADE AKERS 


they purchased this warehouse, and it was the first colored church in this entire 
section of the county. “There were around Goshen a good many colored people 
by the name of Barbour; and they were all Baptists. 

The pastor of this congregation was John Buckner of Louisville. He 
worked all week in the brick yards and Sunday morning took an early street-car 
which stopped at the east end near Frankfort and Melwood avenues. He then 
walked all the way to the Dr. Barbour place and conducted services in the 
warehouse. He was a very earnest man and left a good impression on the 
negro population. A Sunday School grew up at the warehouse and was later 
enlarged when the Greencastle church was built at Prospect. The ground for this 
church was given by Miss Thursa Ann, sister of Dr. Ditzler. A day school 
in time grew out of the Sunday School; and now the Jacob Consolidated Col- 
ored School stands between Prospect and Harrods Creek as one of the best 
schools for colored children anywhere. The name Jacob is well taken, for Rev. 
Jeff Jacob succeeded Pastor John Buckner as the shepherd of this flock; and 
for many years was a worthy colored Baptist preacher in Oldham county. ‘The 
Greencastle church was built in 1874; and twenty-five or thirty years afterwards 
a Baptist church was built at Harrods Creek for the convenience of the many 
worthy colored people who had built homes in the village. These people are 
among the most self-respecting and industrious of Jefferson county. It was 
in this way that the colored churches of the country district grew and developed 
out of the white ones, after the downfall of slavery and the coming in of edu- 
cation and a better trained ministry for the negro population. 

Uncle Lige Miller, of Prospect, gave us an outline of the facts about these 
Baptist churches and pastors. Harrison Kennedy of Harrods Creek deserves 
great credit for bringing about the consolidated school at Jacob Station. Prof. 
Willis Kemp tells us that this school is deserving of very high praise. The 
parents of the children take great pride in the work of the school; and it has 
reached a high standard since it has been in operation. Prof. Kemp says that 
on the occasions that the County School Commissioners have visited the school 
the meals served were to a queen’s taste. The teachers have a building that 
would now cost five thousand dollars, and the domestic science and manual train- 
ing cottages are well equipped. All this shows what can be done, and will be 
done, in rural districts everywhere in years to come. Prof. Kemp pays a just 
tribute to the interest and pride of the colored people in the school work of their 
children. 





GOVERNOR RICHARD T. JACOB 


GHAR Res | 


‘Sn 


S youth 





Surial Like in the Ole 


BOUT the year 1855 there came to the home of Mrs. Adaline Wool- 
folk at Goshen to board a Mrs. Hoffman, the wife of a Ten- 
nessee dentist. She was a very cultured woman and a writer 
of unusual gifts. She brought her son of sixteen to become 

a student at the McCown Academy. This Mrs. Hoffman at the time 
Was writing a novel of Southern Life with the title of this chapter. She 
was gathering material in the Goshen community just as Mrs. Harriet Beecher 
Stowe did for Uncle Tom’s Cabin, only Mrs. Hoffman was not an Abo- 
litionist. Instead, she was a candid and sincere critic of social life in the 
South, and she not only pictured people she had known; but she took the old 
Woolfolk homestead and family as types of the very best people in Southern Life. 
She made Miss Mary Woolfolk a heroine and drew her pictures of people so 
cleverly that the story after a short time found a publisher in New York and 
had a wide circulation. A leading character in the story fell from virtue, though 
this was related very finely and delicately. Yet it occasioned considerable crit- 
icism at the time from a prominent Presbyterian minister in Louisville, who 
was an editor. Mrs. Woolfolk, too, read the book when it came out and 
expressed herself somewhat as did the editor. Mrs. Hoffman replied with some 
spirit that the minister had sat up all night to read the book, and surely the 
story was a success, in spite of his censure. Miss Mary Woolfolk read the book 
with keen interest; and we have since tried to procure a copy, but it is long 
since out of print. 

Matthew Arnold defines poetry as a criticism of life. It seems to us that 
fiction is the same thing; and any book that dealt with the old life of the South 
long ago would necessarily be a criticism of existing institutions, especially that 
of slavery. Yet old time Kentuckians naturally resented criticism of the way 
they treated their slaves. As a child our mother, who was Mary Woolfolk, 
held the Abolition Crusade in horror, and never read Uncle Tom’s Cabin till long 
after the Civil War. In the last years of slavery she was teaching music in 
the McCown Academy at Goshen. In this same school, which had passed under 
the direction of Dr. A. S. Newton, was a Professor Edmunds, a New Yorker 
and a teacher on the Academy faculty. He was a peculiar dreamer and poet; 
also a musician, a linguist, a mathematician, and highly accomplished in every 
branch of his profession. He was not only intelligent and human but was a 
great Abolitionist. He boarded at Dr. Newton’s but came over in the evening 
With some music books to give lessons to Miss Mary Woolfolk in song and 
upon the piano. 

One of the young slave women from the Woolfolk farm was hired out to 
oY, tba eee family, a couple of miles away. She was not a girl of much 
moral stamina, and experienced two lapses in her association with the slaves down 
there. Perhaps we should be very just and merciful in our estimate of any 


102 Obes Ghee EARERS 


slave girl under the circumstances. Anyhow, the second deviation from virtue 
in her case brought fatal consequences, which she herself directly occasioned. It 
was a very distressing case. She was the eldest daughter of ‘“‘Aunt Emily.’ Mrs. 
Woolfolk sent ‘“‘Aunt Emily,’’’ her own mother, down to nurse her. She was 
given every attention possible until she died; but she was beyond recovery. 


A SLAVE TIME TRAGEDY 


The village storekeeper was a New Englander, so we understand, who 
boarded “with his" wife at the Uae farm. They were Abolitionists. This 
man’s wife related the tragedy of the slave girl to Prof. Edmunds. It made 
a deep and unfavorable impression upon him. So he said to Miss Mary at 
school a morning or two after: 

“‘Miss Mary, I had heard a great deal about the evil of slavery; and I was 
prepared to discard some of my prejudices and modify some of my opinions by 
what I saw of the institution in Kentucky. But I must tell you that I am 
surprised and pained that a young woman of your kind nature and humanity 
could be so indifferent as not to visit the dying bed of a poor unfortunate negro 
girl who belonged to your own mother. I fear that this only shows what 
slavery will bring the very best of people to.” 

Miss Woolfolk looked at him in amazement: “‘Mr. Edmunds, you evidently 
have been getting your information about this case from Mrs. S__..__.; and 
you do not know what you are talking about. I would at least withhold my 
judgment till I knew the facts. I decline to discuss the subject with you any 
further.”’ 

When Miss Mary told this at home her mother was very much provoked. 
The next day while Miss Mary was giving a music lesson at school, Prof. Ed- 
munds entered the room with his own music books in hand. 

“What does this mean?’’ he asked anxiously. 

“IT am sure I don’t know.’’ replied Miss Mary. 

“IT found them at my room door upstairs,’’ he added sadly. 

Presently: Mrs. Woolfolk herself appeared. 

“T brought them,” she began with a flash of indignation in her black 
eyes. ‘‘I suppose, sir, that you are collecting material for another libel on Ken- 
tucky slave holders. If so, you can not call at my house nor keep company with 
my daughter, sir. You understand?”’ 

At this time it seems that. a story by the famous Parson Brownslow, or 
some other writer, had incensed the South somewhat like Uncle Tom’s Cabin. 
Mrs. Woolfolk informed Prof. Edmunds that he could go elsewhere for his 
facts. He was exceedingly crestfallen and wrote a beautiful letter of apology to 
Miss Mary in French. He never came back to the house afterward; but when 
commencement was at hand and Miss Mary had the musical part of the program, 
he stood on the platform and turned the pages for her while she sang. She 
and Miss Lou Woolfolk, a niece of Mrs. Eubank, sang ‘‘Listen to the Woodbird 
Sing,’ with the word ‘‘listen’”’ as a refrain. Then Pastor Dinsmore, the minister, 
called for the ‘‘Pilgrim Fathers.”’ 

Prof. Edmunds afterward became a writer on the staff of the Louisville 
Journal and wrote a poem to Miss Mary in his longing and regret. She went 
down to Louisville one day during the Civil War, about a year after the un- 


SOCIAL LIFE “IN -LHES OLD 2S0Ud oH 103 


pleasant episode, and was shopping in a store down under the Louisville Journal 
office. She got one of the clerks to take her card up to Mr. Edmunds. He came 
down in a few minutes and talked with her for half an hour. That was the 
last time she ever saw him. He afterward went to New Orleans in some gov- 
ernment capacity and died there. 

The memory of the old slaves was very tender in the true Kentucky home. 
There was old ‘“‘Aunt Kizzy,’’ large of frame and fleshy; too old to work or 
walk about, living in the hill cabin with her daughter, kept by ‘‘Marse Jeff 
and “Miss Ad’line’’ as a pensioner of toil. She sat out in the yard smoking her 
pipe, with a little fire nearby to keep the gnats away. She was very neat and 
orderly. She had a chest, or ‘‘chiss,’’ as she termed it, in which she kept her 
sugar and green coffee. Mother remembered the grateful aroma of that old 
““chiss’’ every time she smelled green coffee. The faithful old slaves were never 
forgotten by their white people. In every case they could come back after free- 
dom and live until they died on the old farm. 





THE OLD TODD WOOLFOLK HOMESTEAD, 
Near Goshen, Kestucky. 


MEMORIES OF AN OLD KENTUCKY HOME 


Two generations of Woolfolks occupied the old Todd house. It was an 
old brick mansion half hidden by cedar and locust trees. It was built by an 
Old Time Kentuckian who now slumbers with his family in an unprotected rest- 
ing place upon the hilltop. A few primitive headstones remain, marked by the 
letter T. A solitary mulberry tree stands sentinel above the sunken graves. Cat- 
tle and horses pass over it in summer and winter and in time to come it will 
no more be remembered than the unknown Indian dead whose stray arrow points 
and tomahawks lie scattered about the field. 

We always loved to talk with our mother about che Old Kentucky Home. 
The latent poetry of the soul is kindled by the beautiful songs of the past, 
which are interspersed with tender recollections of the old patriarchal days before 


104 ASUS See RIO JelereW eg obs, 


the Civil War. In later life our mother understood and admitted the darker, 
tragic side of this old life in conversation with us. Her mother’s burdened 
existence embodied it all. 


“Yes, life was not all a summer holiday to master and mistress in the old 
slave days. Ten children were born to my father and mother, and these were a 
constant care. But little leisure was left to the mother of such an old-fashioned 
family. Four of her little ones died ere they reached the age of five. Then 
the devoted husband and father followed; and the burden of the whole estab- 
lishment fell upon the young widow’s shoulders. 


“Mother was thirty-nine years old when her husband died; and the life 
struggle grew harder for her as the institution of slavery neared its doom. My 
brothers, Newton and James, went West to better themselves financially; but the 
storm of the Civil War swept away their patrimony and broke the spirit of 
both. James was .a buoyant fellow, but his wedded life went down 
in the financial crash; and in those terrible, desperate days of the warfare in 
Missouri, he took to the intoxicating cup to quench his sorrows. It was enough 
to drive many a man insane. He was for the South and his home and property 
were invaded and violated. He came back with his wife to Kentucky and lived 
here for a number of years. Newton became the solace and support of our 
mother in her declining years. Then there was a younger sister, Agnes, lovliest 
and sweetest of all the village girls, whose health gave way and she died on the 
verge of womanhood. These trials tore mother’s heart and the constant eco- 
nomic demands of the struggle for existence made her load of responsibility very 
hard to carry. Many a time, in order to secure a living price for the produce 
of the farm, it was necessary for her to go in person to markets and merchants, 
so ready to exploit and plunder in the fierce game of competition. 


“But mother faced these things with fortitude; and as her children grew to 
manhood and womanhood, we assumed our part of the burden. The brothers 
were educated and started in the professions of their choice. She was generous 
with her children and gave them the best she could afford. The old slave papers 
prove this when her sons, James and Newton, went to Missouri. The losses 
out there narrowed and embittered Newton somewhat; and in later years he 
often spoke with fear and misgiving of the generosity of his mother as though 
it were a waste. He took care of everything and did not spend unless it was 
necessary during the hard times and high prices following the Civil War. One 
day she bought some new harness that was badly needed; and she kept it 
hidden until it chanced that Newton had a narrow escape with the old harness. 
Then she produced the new and used it freely. He would, in his way, say that 
we were on the way to the poor house; but she always answered that she was 


$7? 


glad there was a poor house to go to if the worst came! 


The reader will discern in these incidents the passing away of the old social 
order of the South. In those good old days before the Civil War, when 
the house and barn were filled to bursting with the plentiful product of field 
and garden, it was a time of festivity and hospitality and good will. Even the 
slave was in a way happy among his kith and kin. But the knell of history 
had sounded for the downfall of slavery; and with it passed away much that 
makes the heart mourn with tender memory. 


CHAPTER XXII 
Che Mar-Cide Curns in Oldham 


AREFUL inquiry has brought out the fact that the presence and in- 
fluence of the Reverend J. H. Dinsmore, pastor of the Goshen Pres- 
byterian church when the Civil War came on, powerfully supported 
Col. Richard T. Jacob, Rob Morris and other leading Union men 

at LaGrange. Mr. Dinsmore was a native of Pennsylvania, a graduate of Wash- 
ington and Jefferson College and of the Alleghany Presbyterian Seminary. He 
came to Goshen after holding the pastorate of the old Mulberry church in Shelby 
county. He was a very cultured man and a most excellent preacher. He was 
a devoted pastor and endeared himself to every home and fireside that he visited. 
He got around among the people all over Oldham county. There was not a 
Presbyterian anywhere that he did not get to his house. He was pastor-at-large 
of all the Presbyterians in the county at the opening of the Civil War. 


For many years in the old days the home of Elder Francis Snowden of the 
Goshen church was the home of the pastor. He was made welcome, with a com- 
fortable room, plenty of leisure to study, and good meals at the family table. 
No board was charged and he was only required to cut and bring in his own 
wood. This, no doubt, to give him some exercise. A good horse was at his 
disposal for pastoral visiting and reaching distant preaching points. Mr. Dins- 
more came to Mr. Snowden’s two or three years before the great conflict. By this 
time Elder Snowden’s health was beginning to fail and Mrs. Adaline Woolfolk 
was requested to make a home for Mr. Dinsmore. She agreed and gave him the 
little room above the front hall of the old homestead that was for a long time 
the pastor's study. In this room the good man of God wrote his sermons. He 
was a bachelor of very fine feelings and sentiments and a scholar of unusual mind. 
He was not eloquent in the pulpit but possessed an earnestness that was equal 
to it. Little did the family dream that this quiet, studious pastor would prove 
so powerful a factor in holding Kentucky loyal to the Union when the storm 
of battle burst over the land. 


Yet when Pastor Dinsmore mounted his horse on Sunday he not only went 
to Westport as the pastor of Richard T. Jacob, but on other days he went to 
LaGrange and visited in the homes of men like Rob Morris, who was a Presby- 
terian, and then out to Ballardsville, where he shared the hospitality and friend- 
ship of Dr. John Swain, who was a Freemason and a Union man as well as a 
devout Presbyterian. Mr. Dinsmore was not a man to emphasize his political 
opinion but on the question of secession and disunion he stood firm as the ever- 
lasting hills. Such men as J. S. Crutchfield, J. R. Morrison, S. E. DeHaven, Rob 
Morris, and others, were not radical on the subject of slavery; but they were of 
the same mind as Mr. Dinsmore in loyalty to the Union. In spite of the 
powerful undercurrent of sympathy for the South in Oldham county, we have 
before us the fact that these men turned the balance in favor of the Union. 


106 Ee Ur eS Be ARE RS 


PASTOR DINSMORE SUPPORTS ROB MORRIS 


Mr. Dinsmore not only strengthened the faith of the older generation in 
the Federal cause, but took a very prominent and active part in his end of the 
county in supporting Rob Morris when it came to defending the county against 
the invasion of Kirby Smith and the inroads of guerrillas. It was this dramatic 
and somewhat humorous’ episode that led up to the “Battle of New Castle,’’ 
and its humiliating outcome. But the tide of history was turned and the 
Union forces were victorious in the end. We have done such full justice to Mr. 
Dinsmore in former publications telling of Col. Richard T. Jacob that it is not 
necessary to recount the facts here. 





REV. J. H. DINSMORE 
Strong Union Pastor of old Goshen Church. 


As the storm-cloud of the great war between the North and the South swept 
down over the State, Mr. Dinsmore became more pronounced in his lo;a:ty to 
the Union. He did not preach political sermons but he expressed himself in no 
uncertain terms. The congregation at Goshen was devoted to him; but such 
leading families as the Snowdens and Barbours were with the South, and it 
was more and more embarrassing to the good men of God to go on. ‘The 
Woolfolks and Crutchfields were Union and gave him sincere support; but the 
feeling in the church and community grew so intense that Mr. Dinsmore shortly 
resigned. [he younger generation was mostly with the South. The older gen- 
eration in the main upheld the Union. Among these younger lovers of the 
South was Lea C. Woolfolk, who was born in 1843. He was a very bright 
young fellow and went away to college at Washington and Jefferson, Pennsyl- 
vania. It was the influence of Mr. Dinsmore that brought this about. Lea 
Woolfolk was intended for the ministry or the law. He made a most excellent 
student and was in college when the Battle of Gettysburg was fought. The 
students were asked to volunteer to drive back General Lee. The entire class 
stood up except Lea Woolfolk and another young Kentuckian from Louisville 


DOC AIS LIPES INF re Olea s Ola bf 107 


by the name of John Buck. To his astonished schoolmates and teachers, who 
wondered if these boys were traitors, Lea Woolfolk said, ‘‘We were sent here to 
study, not to fight.”’ That ended the matter, but the truth was that they both 
were for General Lee. 





Die hObs MORRIS 


Famous Masonic Poet; Elder in LaGrange Presbyterian 
Church. Strong Union Man in Oldham ‘County. 


PASTOR DINSMORE’S SUCCESSORS 


After Mr. Dinsmore’s resignation a young Mr. Trimble from Tennessee 
came as pastor to Goshen. He was a gifted and gracious young minister. He 
especially endeared himself to the Southern families, not by what he said or 
thought, for he was as silent as the grave on his opinions of the war. But, 
being from Tennessee, it was presumed that he was for the South. In the fam- 
ily of Dr. Nat Barbour he performed the marriage ceremony for their favorite 
daughter and discharged the duties of his office with exceeding credit. Yet what 
was the dismay of the Southern families to find out in the end that Mr. Trimble 
was a Federal refugee; not indeed to his discredit; but persecution had sealed 
his lips. | 

Mr. Dinsmore returned to visit his friends at Goshen more than once after 
his resignation. In the fall of 1864, during one of these visits, he found a 
young man who had come to take the place of Mr. Trimble. This young man 
was a native of Middlesex county, New Jersey, where he was born September 
18th, 1837. He made a profession of his faith at the age of sixteen in the 
Perryville, Ky., Presbyterian church, his family having removed to this State in 


108 Din Ee iG TEAR ERS 


his boyhood. He was a student at the old Transylvania College, Lexington, 
before entering the Sophomore class at Centre College. He took high rank as a 
student and graduated with the class of ‘61 at Old Centre. In the fall of that 
year he entered the Danville Theological Seminary, where he studied for the 
ministry under such men as Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge, who used his mighty 
influence to hold Kentucky in the Union and who presided over the convention 
of 1864 that renominated Abraham Lincoln for the Presidency. 

This young student, John Rule by name, received the finest training that 
any young man needed to fit him for the gospel ministry. His family lived 
in Lexington during the Civil War and his name was in the draft for Federal 
service. He awaited the call to arms but was not taken; so he was free to pur- 
sue his studies at Princeton Theological Seminary in his native State. His heart 
was with the South; but, like Dwight L. Moody, he was not a man who 
courted conflict. He was really very much the same as Rob Morris on the 
subject of war; but would have preferred the work of a Chaplain had he been 
summoned to the field. He was ready to go to battle if so ordered, but was 
always glad that he did not have to take up arms against the South. 

It was this young man who came to take Mr. Trimble’s place. When he 
preached his trial sermon before the congregation Mr. Dinsmore was present, 
having gone to the service with him from the home of Mrs. Woolfolk, where 
they were staying. There was a strong feeling against Mr. Dinsmore in the 
congregation on account of his radical Unionism. The new minister did not call 
upon Mr. Dinsmore to go into the pulpit or to take any part in the service 
because of the feeling existing. But he said afterward that if he had understood 
the situation more fully he would not have hesitated a moment in showing 
Mr. Dinsmore all due courtesy. Mr. Dinsmore was very generous and com- 
mended the sermon preached by the young minister. He told the people they had 
better close with the new man at once, which they did; and thus began in 
Oldham county one of the longest continued resident pastor’s services on record 
—that of Rev. John Rule, who has lived and ministered in the Goshen neigh- 
borhood since 1864. 


MASONIC AID FOR PRISON SUFFERERS 


The only difference that ever arose between the new pastor and Mr. Dins- 
more was one day at the home of Mrs. Woolfolk when they were discussing 
some prison and hospital contributions for Southern soldiers that Miss Mag 
Huffman was helping to take up. The spirit of Aunt Martha Eubank and Rob 
Morris had permeated Oldham county to such an extent that both sides in the 
great conflict were equally ministered unto. This was some of the earliest and 
noblest Red Cross work done in America. Not only were the people gathered 
together as one man at the public exercises, where the songs of North and South 
were sung alike by Miss Mary Woolfolk and others; but the proceeds were di- 
vided with strict justice to Federal and Confederate. Is it any wonder that Ma- 
sonic influence became the mother of the American Red Cross? The conversation 
between Mr. Rule and Mr. Dinsmore upon this point led to some difference of 
opinion, as Dr. Dinsmore could not concede the justice of aiding Southern pris- 
oners. Mr. Rule warmly commended it. And today in all the wars of the 
world the Red Cross endeavors to serve friend and foe alike. Anyone who will 


Bowe tri. NG TEE Ob SO UR i 109 


read carefully the story of Andersonville and other prisons will find that even 
the Federal authorities refrained from giving medical and humane assistance for 
a long time on the theory that the supplies would be appropriated for Southern 
sufferers and prolong the war that much more. So even Union soldiers lan- 
guished and died in the prisons of the South with no kindly hand to minister 
unto them. It was the work of Aunt Martha Eubank and other Eastern Star 
souls in Kentucky who rendered merciful assistance long before the Red Cross 
was organized. 


ROB MORRIS, THE EVANGEL OF BROTHERHOOD 


No man was more capable of leaving on record the story of this great re- 
lation between Freemasonry and the American Red Cross than the first biog- 
rapher of Dr. Morris—his bosom friend, Thomas R. Austin, who was a prom- 
inent Union surgeon. Dr. Austin covers this memorable period when Free- 
Masonry and the Eastern Star Order gave birth to the life work of Clara Barton. 
We will connect the incidents, just narrated, here in our home county with the 
great movement of mercy in the war outside, and leave the testimony of Dr. 
Austin as the final verdict of history. He says: 

“Dr. Morris was very faithful to the flag and the theory of the American 
Union. In an address delivered in January, 1861, he told the people that Civil 
War meant death to fathers and sons; the burning of homes; the wastage of 
property without recovery; flight, poverty; subjection to the meanest elements of 
society; a thousand unknown evils and sorrows; the rising of the popular scum 
to the surface. All this was realized. The terrible devastations of 1861-5 
shattered the chain of his friendships; thousands whose names were in the cat- 
alogues of his friends in 1860, having disappeared, upon the return of peace 
in 1865, the victims of a strife the more cruel because the combatants were 
brothers. But as long as letters could be passed through the lines, he had re- 
peated assurances that differences in political theories did not weaken the bond of 
old-time friendships. His songs of conciliation and Masonic affection were sung 
in all camps whatever the symbols of nationality that waved over them. Mil- 
itary prisoners’ were the recipients of his sympathy and brotherly aid; and to 
none did returning peace bring early and numerous congratulations as to Rob 
Morris. Concerning the influence of Masonry on the battlefield, but little can be 
said. A soldier must shoot where and when his officer commands him; but 
when the battle is over and the dead are to be buried, the prisoners secured, 
the wounded cared for, the hungry fed, then the brotherly influence sets in. 
His wound is first tended, his mouth first filled, his grave first opened, who has 
shared with us in the Brotherly Covenant. Among his songs and poems sev- 
eral were written to express this sentiment. 

“Without exhibiting vanity or vain boasting, we may claim that Masonry 
did as much to divest the recent war of many of its most terrible features, as 
any of the numerous appliances recognized among Christian communities. It 
followed the bloody advance of contending armies, staunching the gushing 
wounds, lifting the fallen heads,bearing from the fields the lifeless bodies like a 
ministering angel; it hovered around the soldier's couch in the hospital ward, 
cooling fevered brows and soothing dying hours. War has now ended, peace has 
come again. The horrors of the battlefield have passed into record, and the 


110 Died e NEUE o Ih aperedse ey. 


laws which were silent during the reign of bloodshed will again speak and again 
be heard. The duties of the State now begin, and charity, both individual and 
associated, may pause for a while in their exertions and labors. 

“‘An incident connected with the war illustrates the influence of Masonry 
and the part allotted to our zealous peacemaker. Dr. Morris was at Memphis, 
Tenn., July, 1863, at that time, of course, in the hands of the Union forces. 
A colonel of the enemy’s troops sorely wounded in the late repulse at Helena, 
died in the officers’ hospital at Memphis and was buried at the charge of the 
Freemasons. Dr. Morris presided at the affecting rite. The procession, large and 
orderly, and composed of national soldiers, citizens and persons lately in arms 
against the Government, marched to solemn music two miles to the cemetery, 
where they gave their ‘dust to dust’ with the accustomed forms. Dr. Morris 
relates that as the grave was about to be filled in, the evergreens having been de- 
posited and the last prayer spoken, a lady, a stranger to him, hastily broke 
through the fraternal circle, ran to the side of the grave and threw in an 
embroidered handkerchief, which opening as it fell, displayed the colors under 
which the unfortunate Mason had died.”’ 


GAL Bhar | 





Horctor 2 





Vewmbow and Aamt AMartha Eubank 


N the Masonic lot at Cave Hill cemetery just back of the rows of 

graves where the little ones from the Mascnic Home have been 

buried for the past fifty years, lie the mortal remains of Dr. A. S. 

Newton, Superintendent of the Masonic Home half a century ago. 

He was born August 17th, 1815, and died at the Home February 4th, 1874, 

of pneumonia and inflammation of the liver, contracted at his duties. On his 

tombstone are the words, ‘“The Lord redeemeth the souls of His servants, and 
none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate.” 

In the same grave with Doctor Newton rest the ashes of his beloved wife, 
Agnes Alice Newton, who was born September 18, 1828, at Westport, and 
died in Los Angeles, California, October 6, 1905, at the age of 77 years. The 
remains of Mrs. Newton were cremated by her son, Thomas P. Newton of Los 
Angeles, and were tenderly deposited in Cave Hill. This grave is No. 8 from 
the left back of the lot, which is No. 335, Section P. Acacia Avenue, in the 
cemetery. Mrs. Newton lived for many years in Wilkes Block, Louisville, after 
the death of her husband, whom she survived thirty-one years. She spent the 
remainder of her life with her devoted son and passed away in the land of sun- 
shine and flowers. 

Down the hillside from the grave of Doctor Newton are two other graves 
on lot 420, Section P, Celtis Avenue. ‘This lot js listed in the name of R. H. 
Woolfolk. The first grave is that of Aunt Martha Eubank, who was born 
February 10, 1808, at the old home between Skylight and Westport, and died 
January 28, 1877, in the home of Captain Richard Woolfolk, where the Louis- 
ville Public Library now stands. Beside her grave is another, that of Ann G. 
Woolfolk, her maiden sister, affectionately known to everyone as Aunt Nancy, 
who was born June 4, 1796, and died January 6, 1870. On each tombstone 
are the words, ‘““The Orphans’ Friend.’’ Aunt Nancy lost her lover in youth 
and remained single out of respect to his memory. She lived and worked with 
Aunt Martha in all her great services to the unfortunate. The stones that mark 
these graves are simple but fitting, and no woman who sleeps in Cave Hill cem- 
etery so lives in the memory of Christian and Masonic immortality as Aunt Martha. 
Our mother says that it was her good fame and influence that decided the 
Board of the Masonic Home to choose Dr. Newton as Superintendent while she 
was Matron. But we are here to say that Dr. Newton was a man that Aunt 
Martha knew thoroughly well, and our researches have revealed his eminent 
fitness for the place. 


Dr. NEWTON AS A TEACHER 


The reputation of Dr. Newton as a teacher was very high. He was a 
native of Connecticut and came to Kentucky as a teacher in the family of Mr. 
T. H. Woolfolk, of Woodford county. This man was the youngest of a 


Pie, BCE Ee Lot Tees Perc Ise rey 


large family of Virginia descent. He was a lawyer by profession, as one of 
his sons says, but never practiced after his marriage. He came into possession 
of a good fortune by his marriage and by inheritance and this turned him aside 
from his profession to his plantation and a life of leisure as in the old slave 
days. His chief interest now lay in the education of his children and Dr. A. 
S. Newton was selected as special tutor in this cultured household. Mr. Wool- 
folk was a man of fine presence, great social charm and a delightful conver- 
sationalist. He was a gifted writer, and was carried away by the dreamy 
romance of the old Southern life. His son deplored the fact that he did not 
have some struggle with adversity in order to bring out the inborn qualities 
and gifts that he possessed. But it was in the home and library of this charm- 
ing man that Dr. Newton pursued those historic and Masonic studies which 
made him grace the circle of Old Pythagoras Lodge at Goshen some years after- 
ward. 





DR. A. S. NEWTON, Masonic Physician and Teacher. 


This Thomas H. Woolfolk, in whose family Dr. Newton was tutor, was 
married to Charlotte J. McClung, who was born near Washington, Ky., in 1803 
and died in Woodford county in 1840. Her husband was born in 1795 and 
died in 1850. They were married in 1828. This brilliant woman was one 
of the noted leaders of Blue Grass society and culture in her time. Dr. Newton 
found her a most delightful friend and admired her as the mother of sons who 
were afterward distinguished in law, the ministry and the community life. 
These sons were his pupils and were devoted to him as long as he lived. Mrs. 
Woolfolk possessed a nature of great refinement, intelligence and spiritual per- 
ception that made her almost psychical. To this was added the grace and 
elegance of conversation that made this home a name far and wide. 


SOGIA Par re tN ele OLDsSOUTH 113 


Dr. NEWTON’S FAMOUS PUPILS 


The most noted of the young men in the Woolfolk family taught by Dr. 
Newton was the Reverend Lucian B. Woolfolk, who was born in Woolford 
eGunty, sJuly 2 la bor oes tles was married April) 17, 1855, to Elizabeth; Cun- 
ningham, of Tennessee. He was educated at Yale College and Brown Uni- 
versity. He entered the Baptist ministry in early life and was editor of the 
“Baptist Standard’ at Nashville for two years until the Civil War came on. He 
Wase pastor, at Knoxvillesrebenn., for two, years. . After the Civil. War he 
preached for some six years in Kentucky and pursued a brilliant course as a 
writer for the religious press. He rose rapidly to the highest rank as a pulpit 
orator and writer. He overtaxed himself and was compelled to go to Montana 
for several years. Dr. Newton had two sons who were brought up at Goshen 
and went to Montana where they made a great success in business. They were 
devoted to the family of the Rev. Lucien Woolfolk out there. 





AUNT MARTHA EUBANK. 


This good minister was a near cousin of Aunt Martha Eubank and 
visited his relatives at Goshen in the old days by riding horse-back from the old 
home in Trimble county, whither his father removed before his death. His 
father died of cholera in Trimble county, Kentucky, in 1850. Rev. Mr. Wool- 
folk returned from the West in 1873 and became the leading Baptist pastor at 
Lexington, Ky. At the General Association of his church in Louisville, cele- 
brating the centennial of this great denomination, he delivered the sermon- 
address as the choice of the entire body and it is a classic of eloquence and beauty. 
Dr. Woolfolk was more than once honored by being invited to address the 
Kentucky Legislature on subjects of public interest. In 1877 he was injured in 
a railroad accident which made him an invalid for two years. When his health 
was restored he returned to evangelical work and to his religious studies and 
publications. He was one of the most famous ministers of his church associated 
with the history of this county. 


Lis THE SLIGHT SBEARERS 


Col. Alex Woolfolk, younger brother of the minister, was the next most 
noted pupil of Dr. Newton. He was born September 1, 1835, in Woodford 
county, prepared for college under Dr. Newton and graduated from Georgetown 
College at the head of his class. He studied law, removed to Missouri in 1858, 
and was elected a member of the State Convention. He took military training 
as the Civil War approached and was commissioned Lieutenant Colonel of Cav- 
alry. He published a pamphlet advocating a Southern Alliance which offended 
the Federal authorities; but he braved all this for the sake of his convictions. 
He was nominated for Attorney General of Missouri in 1864. In 1865 he 
went to Montana and was greatly benefitted in health by the change. He prac- 
ticed law and edited a paper at Helena. He was put forward for Congress sev- 
eral times but declined. His first wife was a Miss Ware, of Missouri, who 
lived only one year and died childless. His second wife was a Miss Swallow; and 





THE OLD GOSHEN ACADEMY 


a most charming family of children blessed this union. Col. Woolfolk came to 
visit his old teacher and friend, Dr. Newton, at Goshen, on his vacations before 
the Civil War. He was a great favorite among his relatives and friends. In 
later years he lived in Chicago and died there. His brother, the minister, died 
also many years ago. Pupils like these men gave Dr. Newton a very high rep- 
utation; and when he had charge of the Goshen Academy he was associated 
with Aunt Martha Eubank in a way that made the choice of these two great 
souls for the Masonic Home inevitable. 

It will be of interest to many Oldham county readers to mention a third 
brother of this remarkable Woolfolk family, Rev. William Woolfolk, who was 
born in 1831 and died in 1858. He was not nearly so gifted as his brothers 
but was trained by Dr. Newton in the classics and higher culture. He entered 
the Methodist ministry and was devoted to his work. He afterward went into the 
Baptist ministry. His wife lived and died at Westport. 


SOC Al LIPRaINeshne OLDS sOUT EH No Bi, 


DR. NEWTON AND THE CIVIL WAR 


Dr. Newton in Pythagoras Lodge at Goshen was what Dr. Morris was in 
Fortitude Lodge at LaGrange. Dr. Newton and Aunt Martha Eubank, as we 
have understood and mentioned before were at heart in sympathy with the 
South. But they took the same impartial position assumed by Dr. Morris in 
his work between the lines. Intimately associated with Dr. Newton at Goshen 





HOME OF AUNT MARTHA EUBANK AT GOSHEN 


was another great soul who was second only to Aunt Martha in reputation for 
noble charity and benevolence. We refer to Miss Elizabeth Henshaw. The 
Henshaws were Union people and slave-holders. Their slaves all went off in 
one night after the Emancipation Proclamation was issued. The farm bell rang 
next morning for the slaves to go about their work, but there was no response. 
One old negro who had enjoyed exemption from all manual labor because of 
rheumatism suddenly found his legs and got away with the rest. 


116 THES DIG Taba ARERS 


In the Henshaw family was an old Uncle Edmund from the far South who 
used to visit his people at Goshen and was very fond of them. The war di- 
vided their sympathies and he went off by himself near Mobile, Alabama. Miss 
Henshaw was devoted to her Uncle Edmund and could not bear to think of the 
alienation. The good old man was ruined financially by the war and lived in his 
house alone outside of Mobile. Miss Elizabeth took Dr. Newton with her and 
made the trip through the hostile lines all the way to Mobile to minister to 
the old man. But he had heard that the Henshaws at Goshen were Union peo- 
ple, and that to him was worse than treason. He sent an old negro out to see 
them, but absolutely declined to allow his good niece to stay and care for him. 
He died in tragic isolation from his old relatives. Such was the bitter prejudice 
of the great conflict. 





NEWTON WOOLFOLK 


Strong Southern sympathizer, who figured in several thrillinz 
Civil War episodes. 


The relief work among the distressed families in the Border States of the 
Civil War was a great service. Newton Woolfolk was equal to Dr. Newton 
in this work. Philippa Henshaw married a Mr. Cowherd and moved to Mis- 
souri before the war came on. ‘The Bushwhackers and Guerrillas were terrible in 
Missouri. Mr. Cowherd was with the South and his family suffered. Newton 
Woolfolk was sent out after the Cowherd family to bring them to Kentucky. 
He and his brother, James Woolfolk, went to Missouri some years before the 
war to farm and were ruined financially by the war. They were both with the 
South; but Newton Woolfolk was one of the most astute and courageous men 
in Kentucky to go on a dangerous mission. He got his passes and reached the 
place where the Cowherds were staying. Mr. Cowherd came in that very night, 
disguised. He was in a very broken state of health and would probably have 
died if left alone. Newton Woolfolk managed with great caution to pass him 
through the Federal lines at St. Louis and Louisville and got him and his family 
safely home. Yet in a short time the Federal authorities in Louisville learned 


DOG ea ariNe sie OED SOU H DW 


of his being a Confederate soldier and sent a detachment out to the Henshaw 
home, surrounded the house, and carried him off to prison. 


ELIZABETH HENSHAW 


The friendship of Dr. Newton and Miss Elizabeth Henshaw needs to be 
told here because she was associated tor a long life time with the finest human- 
itarian services begun by Aunt Martha Eubank and Dr. Newton far back before 
the Civil War. Miss Elizabeth came of a splendid old Virginia family. The 
present home of Mr. P. E. Waters was the original Henshaw homestead here 
about one hundred years ago. Philip Henshaw of Orange county, Virginia, 
came with his young wife and children to Kentucky and with the slave labor 
built the imposing old residence two miles above Goshen. There were three 
children, John, Elizabeth and Jane. While on a visit to Virginia with his 
family some time after settling in Kentucky, Philip Henshaw was taken down 





REV. DR. STUART ROBINSON 


Famous Louisville Fastor of Mrs. Hubank and friend of 
Rev. John Rule. His funeral sermon on Mrs. Eubank was 
a great masterpiece in 1877. 


with typhoid fever, died there and was buried with his fathers. The young 
widow was broken hearted, but she bravely returned to Kentucky with her 
children and carried out the wishes of her deceased husband. 

Elizabeth Henshaw was very devoted to the memory of her father. He had 
a college friend by the name of Telfair who was more to him than a brother. 
So, years afterward, Elizabeth tried to find the friend for her father’s sake. She 
was now along in years and her life had been given in unselfish and generous 
service to every one in need and sorrow. At last she saw in a college catalogue 
the name of Telfair, given to a young student. A letter resulted in the trace 
and the final location of her father’s old friend in Ohio, whither he had gone 
years before. She made the journey and his daughters welcomed her like a 
mother. They arranged her hair to look young, and took her to a grand reception 


118 HE SIGH ee BEARERS 


where she was the center of interest and honor. The good old father gave her 
his benediction and passed away shortly after her return home. 

Elizabeth Henshaw was devoted to her own mother and for this reason 
never married. She was educated at Nazareth Academy, Bardstown, Ky., far 
back when Protestant schools were not sufficiently established in the state to af- 
ford a classical education to young women. She was a devout member of the 
Christian church at Brownsboro; but she was a broad-minded strong type of 
womanhood, and she got the very best of her years at Nazareth. The Sisters 
all loved her and sixty years afterward there was a reunion of her class. She 
was full of sentiment and went back quietly on the train, not wishing to have 
anyone notice her but the few old friends who might be on hand. Scarcely had 
she reached the lawn, ere Mrs. Emily Snowden, an old friend from her home 
neighborhood, saw ‘‘Miss Liz,’’ as everyone called her. A hearty exclamation and 
embrace once more made Elizabeth Henshaw the worthy but unwilling center 
of interest and honor. It was the crowning day of her life; for she was a saint 
uncanonized. 

Captain James Henshaw was a brother of Philip Henshaw and lived at the 
present Stoll homestead, next farm to the Water's home. The Captain was a 
graduate of West Point Academy and a soldier in the U. S. A. One of his 
daughters married James Trigg. Mr. John Henshaw, brother of Miss Elizabeth, 
was educated at the University of Virginia. [hey were both opposed to secession 
during the Civil War, but took no active stand in the conflict. Miss Elizabeth 
Henshaw died December 1, 1902, at the age of seventy-eight years. She was a 
member of the Brownsboro Christian church, which she joined far back before 
the Civil War. She attended a May-day service there and resolved to build the 
Antioch Christian church near her own home. Mr. James Trigg, James Wilhoyte, 
John Clore and others joined in the work. and good crowds attended. This 
church stood on the corner of Edmund Waters farm above Goshen and was 
built some years before the Civil War began. The mother of Miss Elizabeth 
was a very intelligent woman but had never made a public profession of her 
faith. She united with her daughter and gave to the services her presence and 
support. Memories of this old church are forever identified with the name of 
Elizabeth Henshaw. Aunt Martha Eubank was a Presbyterian. Dr. Newton 
was an Episcopalian, and Miss Elizabeth a member of the Christian church; but 
these devoted souls were as one in those charities and benevolences which gave to 
Goshen community so great and deserved a reputation long ago. We have al- 
ready repeatedly pointed out that the work of the Academy at Goshen, and the 
education and care of the boys and girls in the home of Aunt Martha and Mrs. 
Adaline Woolfolk, stand as the immediate predecessor of the Masonic Widows and 
Orphans’ Home, to which Dr. Newton and Aunt Martha went when it was 
completed and opened for its immortal work. 


GHADT ER XALV. 


fles. Richard C. Jacob 
of Old Clitton 


OR years we have been trying to unearth the lost records of the first 

Mrs. Governor Jacob, of Westport, who was the gifted daughter of 

Senator Thomas H. Benton, of Missouri. In our childhood we 

often went with our parents to the home of Governor Jacob at 

Westport, and he often came to our home at Goshen. He frequently related his 
experiences in national affairs, but we were too young to take in the value and 


Cal. and 





significance of what to us now would be priceless for this history. Senator 
Benton made his visits to the Jacob's home at Westport as he passed back and 
forth from Washington, and those visits and conversations with young Richard 
T. Jacob, his son-in-law, were one of the deep and powerful influences that 
made Col. Jacob such a staunch Union man. 

Senator Benton was the great Masonic and Political champion of Andrew 
Jackson. Copies of his famous book, ‘““Thirty Years in the United States Senate,’’ 
were to be found in the library of nearly every cultured home in the days before 
the Civil War, and he was a figure of far greater significance than any United 
States Senator we might name now. The range of his reading and his knowledge 
and estimate of public men astonish you in the pages of his book. We have 
often heard Colonel Jacob tell incidents of Clay and Webster and Calhoun and 
other public men of the time when he was in Washington and studied daily 
the drama of national events. Here is one of the fine stories of General Jackson 
that Senator Benton loved to relate: 

“T arrived at his home one wet, chilly evening in February, and came upon 
him in the twilight, sitting alone before the fire, a lamb and a child between 
his knees. He started a little, called a servant to remove the two innocents to 
another room and explained to me how it was. The child had cried because the 
lamb was out in the cold, and begged him to bring it in, which he had done 
to please the child, his adopted son, then not two years old. The ferocious man 
does not do that; and though Jackson had his passion and his violence, they 
were for men and enemies—those who stood up against him——and not for women 
and children, or the weak and helpless; for all whom his feelings were those 
of protection and support. His hospitality was active as well as cordial, embrac- 
ing the worthy in every walk of life, and seeking out deserving objects to receive 
it, no matter how obscure. 

“Of this I learned a characteristic instance in relation to the son of the fa- 
mous Daniel Boone. The young man had come to Nashville on his father’s busi- 
ness, to be detained some weeks, and had his lodging at a small tavern, towards 
the lower part of town. General Jackson heard of it; sought him out; found 
him; took him home to remain as long as his business detained him in the coun- 
try, saying, ‘Your father’s dog shall not stay in a tavern, when I have a house.’ 
This was heart, and I had it from the young man himself, long after, when he 


120 THE LiGh Ge BEARERS 


was a State Senator of the General Assembly of Missouri, and, as such, nomi- 
nated me for the United States Senate at my first election in 1820: an act of 
hereditary friendship, as our fathers had been early friends.”’ 

Imagine what it must have meant to sit by the fireside at Old Clifton when 
Senator Benton came to see his daughter and her splendid husband. They were 
days indeed in Oldham County history. 


Mrs. SARAH BENTON JACOB 


Mrs. Sarah Benton Jacob was her father’s favorite daughter indeed. She had 
two sisters, Mrs. John C. Freemont and a Mrs. Jones, whose first name we 
can not now recall. Mrs. Jacob was a woman of splendid commanding ap- 
pearance, tall and stately as Miss Elizabeth Bacon Wright of the younger gen- 
eration who was born in LaGrange. Mrs. Jacob opened her heart and home from 
the first to the young people of Westport and endeared herself to everybody. 
The late Mrs. Sallie Duerson Magruder, of Goshen, and Miss Theresa Talbot, 
of LaGrange, were then young girls at Westport and they carried through life 
the memory of her loving kindness. Mrs. Jacob could have easily been the first 
lady of the land but she never manifested that contemptible pride and superio- 
ity that characterize so many really inferior society types. Her father was 
democratic to his heart’s core, and his daughter was like him to the very soul. 
She was happier entering into the lives and interests of all her neighbors and 
associates than in posing and parading above them. In gift and fame as one of 
the great women of Oldham County history she deservedly divides honors with 
Aunt Martha Eubank with whom she was very intimate. 

Col. and Mrs. Jacob had two children, Richard, Jr.,and Leila, who were 
born about 1848 and °50. They were sent to school at the Goshen Academy and 
boarded in the home of Mrs. Adaline Woolfolk. This drew the Jacobs to the 
Woolfolk home frequently and Mrs. Woolfolk often returned the visits. Dick 
and his sister Leila were bright young people and profited by their schooling. 
When Col. Jacob was elected Lieutenant Governor during the Civil War he 
moved to Frankfort and there his children had further advantages. We have told 
elsewhere how Mrs. Jacob lived in Louisville when the Colonel was away in 
the army. She boarded at one of the city hotels. She enjoyed her husband's 
little visits home greatly and one night at the hotel there was a delightful re- 
ception when Mrs. Jacob was the very life of the crowd. She was later taken 
suddenly ill with acute indigestion and died before morning. The grief and 
distress of the whole city were profound. She was a devoted Presbyterian and the 
Rev. James H. Dinsmore of the Goshen and Westport congregations was her pas- 
tor. He was living at Mrs. Woolfolk’s and a messenger was sent for him at 
midnight to Goshen to come to Louisville at once when all hope of saving 
Mrs. Jacob was abandoned. He arose and went with all speed but our impres- 
sion is that he arrived too late. He conducted the funeral service a few days 
afterward at the hotel parlors and all walks and ranks of life paid tribute to the 
memory of this noble woman. She was buried in Cave Hill cemetery. 


SOC Loewe Ne nee OLDE SOU ih | IAA 


DR. JOHNSON OF WESTPORT 


One of the finest traits of Mrs. Jacob was perceiving and inspiring others 
to do and be their very best. Years before the Civil War Dr. Newton of 
Goshen thought of moving down to Mississippi where Rob Morris lived. The 
late Dr. Johnson, of Westport, was then a young married school teacher from 
Mercer county who had graduated in medicine. He came to Goshen to take Dr. 
Newton's practice, and boarded with Mrs. Woolfolk. Dr. Newton did not go 
to Mississippi and so Dr. Johnson located at Westport to practice. Col. and 
Mrs. Jacob at once made him welcome and she especially encouraged him. He was 
a finished musician with an excellent voice in those days, and withal a very 
highly educated and cultured man. But he was very modest and _ needed 
encouragement to bring out the best in him. Mrs. Jacob often remarked in the 
home of Mrs. Woolfolk that Dr. Johnson deserved a larger field and location 
than he had at Westport. 

Dr. Johnson’s wife was a Miss Gallagher: another sister married a Mr. 
Bozarth, of LaGrange, a prominent man and active Baptist. Another sister 
married a Mr. Button and lived very happily. These ties settled and cemented 
the attachments of Dr. and Mrs. Johnson at Westport and he lived a very 
useful life there. He was a very systematic and orderly man and had h’s garden 
in perfect time and season. He was a native of Ohio. He had an organ in his 
house. He understood the theory of music to perfection but could not play 
himself. He conducted a singing school and class at Goshen before he moved 
to Westport and trained the pupils of the Goshen Academy with fine art and 
success. His wife, Miss Gallagher, was a pupil of his in Mercer county and the 
love match resembled that of Dean Swift and Stella, the famous romance of 
literary history. On one occasion when there was a visiting Presbyterian min- 
ister at Westport helping our father in a revival service, he saw Dr. Johnson in 
his plain, simple surroundings at home, busy in house and garden. He appre- 
ciated the doctor for his genial qualities but was astonished to find him a 
finished Latin and Greek scholar and teacher. Such was the man and physician 
that Mrs. Jacob and her husband established in Westport community. Doctor 
Johnson died some thirty-five years ago of typhoid fever. Our father was his 
pastor. He and mother went to see Dr. Johnson and mother says the look 
of settled hopelessness on the Doctor’s face was pitiful to see as they entered 
the room. Rev. Mr. Reynolds and other kindly neighbors were present to cheer 
him, but to all their pleasant remarks he only turned a sad countenance, not 
that he feared to die, for he was a very consecrated Christian man, but he was 
a very serious minded man and the giving up of life here below and entering 
on the last great journey moved him very deeply. He was buried on the farm 
of Col. Jacob at Clifton and will always be remembered and honored as their 
favorite physician and friend. No wonder Mrs. Sarah Jacob enjoyed his culture 
and personal charm. ‘This is the only record ever made of his life and we 
mention all these worthy and notable people because they were so long bosom 
friends of our father and mother when he was the pastor at Westport. 





Annuals of the 





HHOMAS Es Bari Sc bhOd 


CHAPTER av 


Aunals of the doar 
S aA 


HE saying has gone abroad that the people of the old Goshen church 
and community were more reserved and proud and exclusive than 
anywhere else in Oldham county. Let us examine this statement 
a moment in connection with the work of men like Gideon Black- 

burn. Our mother, who was the very flower of that old church and community 
culture, says that she was always instinctively democratic. Her mother was the 
same way. Mother felt that if she had more of culture and privilege than others, 
she was under obligations to help them. She says there were very few mountain 
types of people in the old home neighborhood. It is true that there was a 
difference between the families of means and culture and those who were less 
favored. But at the Goshen Academy the children of the entire country round 
had a chance for education and improvement. We can illustrate this delicate but 
vital social matter by reference to a book that deeply influenced the girlhood of 
our mother. The name of the book is “Annals of the Poor,’’ by Rev. Leign 
Richmond, a rector in Bedfordshire, England. It is dedicated to William Wil- 
berforce, the father of the Anti-Slavery Movement in the British Empire. The 
author was the child of an ancient and honorable family, born in 1772. Leap- 
ing from a wall in childhood, he contracted an incurable lameness, which he 
carried through life. This affliction colored his thought and gave him a deeper 
sympathy with misfortune than most of his brother ministers possessed. He 
graduated with high honors and took a pastorate in a secluded village on the 
Isle of Wight. 

Strange to say, Rev. Mr. Richmond was not truly awakened to the neg- 
lected jewels of common humanity around him until he read “‘Practical Views of 
Christianity’’ by William Wilberforce. This pamphlet of the great Abolitionist 
opened the eyes of the young pastor to the lowly poor around him. He made 
the astonishing discovery that the dairyman’s daughter, the negro servant, the 
young cottager, and like rural types were capable of a godliness and nobility of 
character that put to blush the proud respectability of big land-owners and lords 
of the earth. These sketches got abroad and made Mr. Richmond famous. The 
book went into a second edition and was republished in America. It made a 
profound impression upon our mother. The young pastor discovered a vein of 
poetry in his soul; and some of the verses are exquisite. We could not begin 
to describe the big change that this book implied in the life of a country pastor. 
But when we review the character sketch of Gideon Blackburn at the opening of 
this present volume, we may well ask ourselves the question whether or not 
salvation is for the lost sheep of the House of Israel ? As for our mother, she 
accepted this social gospel without question and practiced it among all classes of 
people. She was too true a spiritual daughter of Aunt Martha Eubank not to 
do this. 


AINNALS= OF THE POOR 125 


EDWARD O. GUERRANT 


At this time of which we are writing, two or three years before the outbreak 
of the Civil War, our father was a student at Centre College, Danville. Among 
his schoolmates was a remarkable young man, Ed Guerrant. This young man 
was descended from the old Huguenots, and inherited the spirit and devotion of 
martyr days. Nevertheless, you would not have suspected such a spirit in the 
genial and fun-loving young fellow. He was very popular with his fellow stu- 
dents. He wrote and spoke in an easy, pleasing style. When the Civil War 
broke out he became a soldier under John Morgan and was a daring and chival- 
rous cavalryman. He studied medicine and began a successful practice ; but the 
call of the lowly poor, and neglected mountain people of Kentucky, took hold 
of his heart ; and he completed his course at the Union Theological Seminary 
of Virginia. Upon his graduation he was called to the First Presbyterian 
Church in Louisville, where Dr. Blackburn had ministered many years before. 

The success of the young pastor was like that of Rector Richmond in his 
famous little village on the Isle of Wight, for he had the same social vision. 
Mr. Guerrant gathered into the old First Church scores of the lowly poor. 
He was one of the most amazing pastoral triumphs of the gospel in the history 
of the city. You would have thought that he would advance to the highest 
honors of the church and kingdom. But, instead, he left Louisville and went 
to the mountains of Kentucky where he labored for more than forty years 
among the types of people that John Fox made famous in his stories. In time 
the worth of his work brought wide renown; and he rendered services to 
Berea College and other institutions that will never be forgotten. This man 
was the bosom friend and fellow-minister of our father when he came to Goshen 
a half century and more ago. His name is on the old church records for the 
beautiful service he conducted before he left for the mountains. It is just such 
a ministry that is needed today in every country community throughout Oldham 
county. 


THE MAN OF GOD AT HOME 


The writer's father was very fortunate in being trained from his youth up 
on the labor principle, which was held so highly by the early colleges of the 
West. It was the custom of the old Jewish Rabbis to teach every spiritual 
pupil a trade in order to keep him practical and make him self-supporting. 
Our father paid his own way through college by his own labor with the addition 
of some help from his home church at Lexington. He attended Transylvania Col- 
lege at Lexington and came under the influence of two very great Presbyterian Ma- 
sonic ministers, Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge and Dr. Robert G. Brank. He was skill- 
ed in the use of tools and was exact and thorough in all his studies. In a word, 
he was trained and fitted to become a teacher as well as a minister. So it is 
a matter of satisfaction and pride to us that he came into the notable succession 
of teachers of the Goshen Academy when Dr. Newton gave up the work. In 
those days just after the Civil War the Old Goshen church contained some of the 
finest families in its history; but they were rapidly passing away. The school 
life also had declined from its former renown exactly farallel with the wane 
of the old Masonic College at LaGrange. But he restored the Academy at 


120 Bee Ghee DE AKBKS 


Goshen to a very high standard. Its influence in after years was far reaching 
in the inculcation of all the social virtues and graces of community life. 

Another great joy to us is the memory of our father’s pastorate at La- 
Grange when Rob Morris was at the summit of his fame and life work. ‘The 
companionship between them was very pleasant and congenial; and our father 
rode the same circuit that Rev. Mr. Dinsmore had covered so faithfully twenty 
years before. In this way his ministry more and more led him to the common 
people who were always on his heart. In the midst of the county and commu- 
nity he dwelt like an old Jewish patriarch or prophet. A little farm of 
ninety acres with a small herd of choice Jersey cattle maintained the family while 
he went abroad on Sunday at the astonishing salary of ten dollars for a Lord's 
Day labor. Many times he has come in home from Westport horse-back with 
his beard frozen stiff with icicles. Yet he made those trips to Westport and 
LaGrange with a glad heart; and it was our pride and joy at times to go 
with him. He again opened an Academy in his own house at Goshen for 
select pupils pursuing the college branches. This was a work that he loved 
and did with ideal success. [hose of us who were his pupils labored upon 
the farm and sustained ourselves as is was intended in the old labor colleges 
of his boyhood. 

When his ministry at Westport and LaGrange was concluded, about the 
the time of Rob Morris’ death, he found in due season another great field of 
service amongst the neglected and forgotten working people upon the farms 
and along the river in his own neighborhood. It seemed that his dream of 
the old Colonial Circuit Rider, Samuel Davies, of Virginia, dominated his life 
work. This great preacher was a poor boy like Gideon Blackburn and became 
the pastor of a wide range of country when the Presbyterian faith was outlawed 
in Virginia. He won the victory for free public worship and inspired the soul 
of Patrick Henry to become the voice and tongue of the American Revolution. 
He also was the supreme inspiration of our father’s student days at Princeton 
Seminary, where the traditions of Davies and Witherspoon are commingled in 
uoble religious and fraternal memory. 


JACOB DITZLER 


It meant something for a man of this type to reside in the community. 
Rev. George Froh and the late Dr. Jacob Ditzler were bosom friends and fellow- 
ministers of our father. Dr. Ditzler and his brothers deserve the highest credit 
for the success they attained in life and the gospel calling. The father of Dr. 
Ditzler was an honest, hard-working German nurseryman. In the days when 
Dr. McCown conducted the Goshen Academy the Ditzler brothers and _ sister 
came to school in a spring wagon with a black horse. There were no barns 
and stables in those days to shelter vehicles and horses at school such as we 
have now. These young people studied hard and three preachers and one sister 
of great merit came out of that family. Jacob Ditzler stirred the ambition of 
the rest; and today we hold in our hand a book on Christian Baptism by Dr. 
Ditzler, dedicated ‘“To My Beloved and Esteemed Former Preceptor, Rev. B. H. 
McCown, D. D.,’’ This book was written at Longview, the home of Dr. 
Ditzler near Prospect. The words of dedication to Dr. McCown are very appre- 
Ciative: 


NINA O + OF** GHEE AROOR | Fay 


“Dear Sir: For several years after attending college, I] had the honor of 
pursuing the languages under your direction. You were present, as you told 
me, during the discussion between Mr. Campbell and Rice at Lexington, Ky. 
Elder A. Campbell, as the debate shows, selected you as a most proper authority 
to whom on his part, he preferred referring a philosophical point in dispute. 
You are presumed, therefore, on both sides of this controversy, to be an impartial 
and able witness. Not on this account only, but because of your former kind- 
ness toward and interest in the Author, I have dedicated this book, the result 
of so much pains and toil, to you, as an humble token of regard, and subscribe 
myself, 

oey OUTS FiDe CUrist, 
1880. es JB) GAM SAE 


GHAPTBREXAY I 


thurried bo Meauen 
al , 


N an old garden under some dark cedar trees on the Busey Snowden 
farm near Goshen, Kentucky, is a stone sarcophagus covering the 
grave of the Rev. John N. Blackburn, the young Presbyterian pas- 
tor-teacher of the old Goshen church and school ninety years ago. 

This young man was the son of the famous and eloquent Gideon Blackburn, 
founder of the old church and the most beloved preacher of pioneer days in 
Oldham county. He settled down here for a number of years under the direction 
of his gifted father and educated all the young people of the first generation of 
pioneers from Charlestown across the river, from Westport, LaGrange and 
the surrounding country. His school house was the Giltner Snowden home. He 
lived afterward and lies buried at the Busey Snowden farm. Mr. Blackburn 
was a very handsome man, with soft dark eyes and a black beard. He was very 
popular with his pupils and a gracious, gifted evangelist. He labored with 
such diligence that when he moved to Woodford county a few years later he 
was taken sick and died suddenly—‘*‘Hurried to Heaven,” as the inscription upon 
his tombstone states so truly. He was only forty-four years old and died amid 
the grief and sorrow of a circle of people whose descendants even today pass 
his resting place with a reverent glance and speak his name with tender love. 

Religion was possibly the first great civilizing force in the pioneer commu- 
nity; and Mr. Blackburn was its highest expression in our midst. He was a 
Hero of Yesterday. We come now to the life story of a man who nearly 
one hundred years after laid down his life for our community in supreme Chris- 
tian love and Masonic devotion. “This man was a Hero of Today—Rev. William 
Payton, the son of Emily and Gaines Payton, born in Munfordsville, Hart 
county, Ky., September 7, 1872. William Payton was descended from an old 
Virginia family who came to this State one hundred years ago. Silas M. Payton 
was one prominent member of the family and was a benevolent slave-holder 
of old days. It is said that he spoke to his slaves at all times with kindness 
and attention to their well-being. In the line of the Payton family were a 
number of ministers. The wives and mothers were mostly Presbyterians and 
William Payton inherited the gift of an evangelist to an unusual degree. 

One day on the old farm of Stapleton Crutchfield near West Goshen, Ken- 
tucky, many years ago his granddaughter, Julia, now Mrs. Julia Snowden, 
and her companions, saw a burial party from the river bottom below. They 
were bringing the body of a child to put away in the earth without a song or 
prayer. ‘Io this earnest and tender-hearted young Christian girl the scene was 
shocking, for it was burying a child like a beast. Yet the people could not 
help it, for no one took any interest in them and no minister of the gospel 
or religious worker ever crossed their doorway. This was reported to the 
Christian people on the hill and Mrs. Julia Snowden, Mrs. Emma Hampton; Mrs. 
Sallie Taylor, Mrs. Mary Rule and other noble Christian women went to the 


ANIA OF SRE Ee POOR 129 


help of the people down in the bottom. In due time, about the year 1895. 
Rev. John Rule went as an evangelist to these people and a little church was 
organized which served for twenty-five years as a church and school among 
them. Rev. Mr. Rule became too old to minister longer to his beloved little 
flock. . 

It had fallen to the lot of his sons to keep this work going. The people 
are a transient population and at times the congregation is small; then again it 
is large. But on both sides of the river are between twenty and thirty families 
who belong to the circle of this little church. During the summer of 1921 
many distracting influences made the work fall to a low ebb. But the faithful 
few down there hoped and prayed for a revival in the fall. It became our duty 
to find a man in the Presbytery of Louisville, U. S., to conduct such a meeting. 
The Home Mission Committee earnestly recommended to us the Rev. William 
Payton, pastor-evangelist of a little mission on Seventh street. We went to see 
Rev. Mr. Payton and engaged his services. He had been ill for several months 
and was very much discouraged about himself, but he manifested an enthusiasm 
to come that gave promise of a great meeting. 

In our own spare time given on Sunday afternoons and Mondays from our 
regular work as a prison chaplain at the Indiana Reformatory, Jeffersonville, we 
had visited the cottages of these working people and felt a great love for their 
personal goodness and desire for their spiritual uplift. As we knelt in 
prayer with them in the humble home of Isaac Brown now deceased, a great 
assurance came down from heaven; and on the first night that Mr. Payton 
came he revealed a power and consecration as an evangelist that astonished 
the little congregation. The Divine Spirit descended as it did in the days 
of John N. Blackburn one hundred years ago. The sermon was simple and 
heart-searching. People sat as if dumb under the spell of this wonderful 
man. Not in a life-time had we seen such compelling sympathy and 
amazing demonstration of devoted leadership. The crowds increased from night 
to night until the little house could not contain them. One after another the 
souls of the wandering and lost were brought back into the fold. 

Mr. Payton sojourned in the hospitable family of Mr. J. P. Brown and 
made his visits round about during the day. Across the hill stood one cottage 
where Aunt Martha Eubank taught a school for Stapleton Crutchfield in 1854. 
To this cottage Mr. Payton went and gathered in a whole family who were 
hungering for religious fellowship. Thus he labored until the meeting closed 
with Pentecostal power and then he returned to Louisville. A plan was on 
foot to get him to hold a similar meeting at the Goshen Presbyterian Church. 
But diphtheria in the public schools prevented. Then word came that Mr. Payton 
was on a sick bed. He got no better but was taken to the Deaconess Hospital 
in Louisville where he died Sunday morning, November 20, 1921. 

The grief of Louisville Presbytery, Mr. Payton’s own family and little 
church, and the sorrow of the West Goshen community, where he spent the 
last remnant of his strength like John N. Blackburn 100 years ago, can scarcely 
be imagined. We attended his funeral service on Monday, November 21, and 
witnessed the mourning congregation. A touching floral design from them bore 
the letters of fragrant blossoms, “‘Our Shepherd.’’ Upon the gray casket containing 
the mortal remains of our departed brother minister was the Masonic apron; and 


130 OE eS lIiGH Tee bEARBRS 


the precious burden was carried by the members of his lodge, who loved him 
as did his own people. It has been a long time since we looked into the 
tranquil countenance of a nobler saint of God who had answered the last sum- 
mons and gone to the presence of the Great Architect and Father of us all with 
such a smile. 

In these days of so many distracting influences and forces contrary to 
unselfish living and soul-consecration the story of this man reads like a romance 
of the First Century. Never have we seen outside of the circle and group of 
Rob Morris himself such a perfect combination of Christian service and Masonic 
brotherhood. It seemed to all of us that this man was sent of God to bring 
back to our neighborhood and people the glory and richness of generations 
gone by. ‘To see him cut down by the hand of death in the prime of his great 
ministry was one of those dark problems that fill the human spirit with unutter- 
able sorrow. So we have determined to put upon record for the years to come 
the facts of this man’s life and death for others. 

William Payton grew up in Munfordsville, Kentucky, and lived there till 
his school days were over. He was twenty years old when his father died at 
the age of fifty-nine; and the responsibility of helping support the family 
came upon him and his brothers. Two of his brothers and one sister were 
teachers and they helped him with his education. 

One of his brothers was an editor at Munfordsville. William Payton went 
with a young man who was well educated and thus improved himself through 
friendship. They lived close by and whistled for each other when they wanted 
to go out together. He read good books and made a study of history and 
human nature. He was very popular among his boy companions and was a born 
leader in all social and recreational exercises. He was converted in his teens. 
He was in the church as a member five years before he became a real Christian. 
He was miserable until he found peace with God. His mother was at his 
side in an upper room when he was converted. It was after the death 
of a younger sister who was a very beautiful girl. He was very fond of her. 
On her dying bed she saw Jesus coming for her. He himself was the youngest 
brother and she the youngest sister in the family. His conversion brought him 
suddenly out of a great sorrow into a great joy. He felt so happy that he got 
far away from the idea that religion took all the pleasure and happiness out 
of life. Thus he was ever an evangel of love and sunshine and his presence 
vas full of magnetism beyond words to describe. 

William Payton was a railroad worker on the L. &% N. and I. C. roads 
before he studied for the ministry. He quit the road when he married. His 
brother Silas taught him how to write up insurance and he worked hard at 
night cultivating those gifts and faculties which enable one to approach others 
with a proposition successfully. In this way William Payton discovered 
within himself unusual capacity to win men. Side by side with business 
success, Which brought him a comfortable living for his family at a_ useful 
vocation, he developed his powers of persuasion in a spiritual way that made 
him an evangelist with increasing results and fruits. All this time in his 
younger days he was surrounded by temptations to drink and gamble that tested 
the mettle of young men everywhere in Kentucky. This was the greatest battle 
he ever fought and it gave him a heart for those people in the outlying districts 


ANNALS OF THE POOR Koa 


of towns and cities that the average church rarely reaches. In a word he went 
to the lost sheep wherever he found them. 

The first mission work that William Payton did in Louisville was in 
behalf of colored people. While he was still railroading he did his work well 
but his heart was even then in the work of the ministry. When he took up 
insurance work he was located in Mt. Sterling and organized a Sunday School 
work out in the country. He was all this time getting experience as a preacher 
and evangelist. He lived at Mt. Sterling a year and a half, then went to Jeffer- 
sonville, Ind., for his company and started a mission work at the edge of town 
where he preached at night. He lived there about one year and was sent to 
Paducah, Ky., at a good salary. He continued his mission work down there. 
Droves of children followed him to these meetings, for they loved him like a 
father. He was in comfort and happiness with his family but was fighting the 
call to preach the gospel as a life work. His little girl sixteen months old 
was taken sick and during the crisis of her illness he fought the battle with 
himself to the end. She died and he was so grieved against God for taking her 
away that his heart was broken. His pastor stood by him until he sur- 
rendered to the call to preach the gospel. He made up his mind to trust God 
for the support of his family. 

William Payton entered the Presbyterian Seminary in Louisville in 1911. 
He worked at the insurance business all the time and got a good support out of 
it. He did not even take advantage of the students’ loan. He studied hard late 
and early and was a great favorite with his teachers. He had a very loving 
and unselfish nature and all the students were devoted to him. He increased 
in his ability and inspiration as a forceful preacher of the gospel. We never 
heard him but once, yet that sermon will remain in memory so long as we live. 
Those who heard him in the little meeting at West Goshen say that he had a 
power of analyzing human nature and clearing out the dark corners of excuse 
and self-righteousness that amazed his listeners. Ordinary people went away 
from the services repeating his stories and thoughts all day long in the field and 
by the fireside to one another. 

It is told that during his seminary days he went to Danville where he had 
a church in the west part of town. A blind tiger was the social center of that 
neighborhood. William Payton by the wonderful Christian and Masonic power 
of his influence got the owner of this place to close it up. He did so by 
dropping in, ordering a coca-cola and then addressing himself to the reason, 
conscience and heart of the proprietor. The women of the community drank 
as well as the men and it was a great victory when the joint shut down. Carrie 
Nation herself could not have done a more thorough piece of work. The kegs 
and bottles were emptied and broken. Chairs were secured and the place was 
opened up as a Sunday School and mission chapel. Mr. Payton said nothing 
to the people about his own church connections. A union church was organized 
and the work was done so that even the Catholics took part and were satisfied. 
The Presbyterians were the largest contributors to this work and Mr. Payton 
went there with his wife in May, 1914, after he graduated from the Seminary. 
His wife was a great helper in all his work and to her he is indebted for much 
of his success in these difficult fields. 


Ro THE LIGH [TepBbAREBRS 


In spite of his gifts as a preacher, William Payton was not tempted to the 
places of comfort and large salary. It was characteristic of him to accept a call 
to the Corbin, Ky., Presbyterian church in the mountains just before Thanks- 
giving, 1914. He was there six months and brought up the membership of the 
church nearly double. He went to a little settlement outside of town far upon 
the mountains and started a Sunday School. The people began to come and 
the children loved him as they always did. In due time a new church was 
organized in that place with a great crowd and a big revival. One story told 
of him there is that he found a poor woman living under a cliff in January 
with a little fire and two beds. Her children were half frozen, for the snow was 
deep and the temperature was down to zero. He brought relief to them and 
they became members of his church. 


This mountain work was very hard on Mr. Payton’s health and for a 
time he gave up the active ministry and returned to the insurance business. 
But it was impossible for him to remain out of service. He preached a great 
deal for colored people and the poor white people where they were neglected. 
Down on Seventh street he found a mission hall that the holiness workers had 
left. So he prayed over this until Cod sent him a friend who bore half 
the expense of fitting up the place for work. It grew and soon afterward 
the Seventh Street Presbyterian church was organized. This work drew to him the 
attention of the religious people all over Louisville and Kentucky. He was 
called for by the larger churches to hold mission revivals everywhere. His 
success was astonishing. When he was ordained in his old home town of 
Munfordsville his mother was present. He went out on the street and brought 
in some of his old friends who were not converted that they might be brought 


to Christ in the service. His success in soul winning was like this ever after- 
ward. 


William Payton was made a Mason at Mt. Sterling, Kentucky, while 
he was living there in 1909. It was in the fall of the year. He was in 
the prime of his early manhood when he took the Masonic vows and it was 
the spirit of brotherhood.and human kindness that gave his gospel messages 
such astonishing force with everybody. He would divide his last dollar with 
you. In the West Goshen meeting he rose to almost supernatural vision and 
consecration. His wife told us that he was impressed that his days were num- 
bered, for he had a fatal malady that medical science could not cure. He came 
to us like a man going to offer himself for his country. He died in the way 
that the saints of old passed from earth. He had a vision of his mother near 
him and the voices of heaven were around him when his mortal spirit took 
flight. A beautiful memorial service was set for Sunday afternoon, November 27, 
1921, at West Goshen. The Rev. A. A. Higgins and Dr. Sweets, of the Chris- 
tian Observer, conducted his funeral in Louisville at his own little mission 
pastorate. He was a member of Lewis Lodge in Portland and was a very 


devoted member. Surely this man’s labors entitle him to eternal memory in our 
community. 


We understand that the First Presbyterian Church of Louisville, with which 
Mr. Payton’s mission was connected, stood by him in his last illness as a 
Mother Church indeed. It shows the fraternal spirit of a true Church of God. 


CHAPTER XXVII 
Che Work wf Alest Oaoslren 
ans Ss L o > 


N ‘Tuesday night, October 31st, 1922, The Home Mission Com- 
mittee of Louisville Presbytery, U. S., after careful considera- 
tion of the petition of the people of West Goshen neighbor- 
hood in Oldham County, to be organized into a separate and 

distinct church, unanimously voted in favor of this organization. The mat- 
ter was to be presented to Presbytery within a month, and the organization 
gave promise to be accomplished by Christmas time. Rev. A. A. Higgins, of 
the Committee, who conducted a most inspiring revival service at Goshen in 
July of the same year, visited West Goshen on the third Sunday afternoon of 
November and made a careful survey of the field to report to Presbytery. Mr. 
Owen R. Mann, Secretary of the Committee of Home Missions, had in mind 
the extension and enlargement of the little West Goshen Chapel so as to afford 
recom for Sunday School and social work in the building. Mr. Mann attended 
the October revival of 1922 continuously and did such splendid personal work 
that he presented the petition to the Home Mission Committee and made 
the recommendations for an immediate organization of the church. 

Mr. Thos. B. Talbot, of West Lexington Presbytery, the lay evangelist, 
who conducted the revival meeting of 1922 at West Goshen that resulted in 
such a large ingathering, was a convert in early youth of the late famous Pres- 
byterian mountain evangelist, Rev. E. O. Guerrant. Mr. Talbot speaks of Dr. 
Guerrant as an intrepid Soldier of the Cross, and his own missionary and 
educational work for the uplift of Kentucky mountain people, follows out the 
unfinished gospel program of Dr. Guerrant. Mr. Talbot became a lay minister 
by teaching in and organizing Sunday Schools in out of the way places where 
churches and congregations were afterward gathered together. He is a_ small 
man of slender build, like Dr. Guerrant, with dark hair and eyes and a very 
pleasant, companionable appearance and manner. After the death of Rev. William 
Payton, who held the West Goshen revival in 1921, Mr. Talbot was con- 
templated to do the work in 1922. He came to the Indiana Reformatory one 
Sunday morning in March of that year, and as Chaplain, we decided upon 
him instantly when we saw how quickly Mr. Talbot caught the heart of a 
prison audience by humor and truth presented in his own very striking 
and original way. Mr. Talbot was the son of a widowed mother, who taught 
school most of the time at forty dollars a month to support six children. His 
father was a Free Mason, and after his death the Lodge took care of the little 
family until the mother was able to provide for them. This experience of 
struggle finally drew Mr. Talbot into the work for the unfortunate boys and 
girls of our great mountain counties. He said that their loneliness and poverty 
and the lack of instruction in the comforts and refinements of home making 
impelled him to go as a messenger and teacher of better things to them. He 


came to West Goshen with the same earnest purpose and accomplished results 
that will be felt in the community for a generation hence. 


1o4 THE” LIGH Ine BEARERS 


At a community prayer service in the home of Mrs. Emma Smith Hamp- 
ton, Wednesday night, November Ist, 1922, this good woman told the story 
of how the work for the river bottom people originated thirty-five years ago. 
She was wonderfully converted in a Methodist revival at Shiloh Church and 
was full of zeal and earnestness to do good unto others. She came down to 
Goshen and went with Miss Fanny Payton to visit a sick family on the 
Robert Snowden farm. They were negroes and yet she ministered to them and 
prayed with them besides giving them food and other necessities. They next 
went down to Harmony Landing where a family of white people were ill 
with measles. Mrs. Hampton said that Miss Fanny saw them as sick people, 
but to her they were also souls in distress because of sin; and they both 
worked joyfully to relieve the situation. The outcome was a little Sunday School 
under the spreading branches of a beech tree at this house during the summer. 
The Christian minister, Rev. Mr. Meevers, gave his help; but Mrs, Hampton 
was the worker with a vision. She taught the children and this man rather 
grew in vision afterward, and the work at this place was the real beginning of 
the West Goshen Mission of later years which was set on foot by Rev. John 
Rule. 

Ten years of Mrs. Hampton’s childhood were spent at the home of her 
Grandfather Shrader in the river bottom on the old Gilpin place at West Goshen. 
Her father managed the farm and the people who worked appealed to her sym- 
pathies unconsciously; but it was not until after her conversion that she under- 
stood the struggle and tragedy of their daily lives. Her mission of mercy 
took her down to an old hut on a certain farm where a poor white woman 
was dying of tuberculosis. Miss Emma’s family and friends were very uneasy 
at the thought of her going to this terrible place and disease. But she braved 
it anyhow and found the woman upon an old straw mattress with no sheeting 
on the bed and no clean pillow for her head. A great rough man and several 
children in rags and dirt greeted her and Miss Fanny when they arrived. 
Again they sang and prayed and brought food and clothing and clean bedding. 
Mrs. Mary Rule, Mrs. Sallie Taylor and perhaps one or two others encouraged 
them on this mission. The work they did set a standard of Christian service 
that would have transformed the religious life of the entire community if the 
vision they shared could only have been general. 

The writer's father, Rev. John Rule, was the founder of the little church 
that ultimately grew out of this movement to save the working people of 
West Goshen community. Like a Covenanter of old, Mr. Rule went to his 
task with a great devotion; and he has left on record an account of the work 
that will live in the story of Presbyterian Missions in this county. His story 
follows: 

“In a_ section called the River Bottom, opposite Goshen, Kentucky, 
extending up the river from Harmony Landing about two and a half miles, 
lived a number of laboring people who were without any religious service. In 
addition to these, on the opposite shore, the Indiana side of the river, there were 
other families who, with their skiffs, often crossed the river, and associated 
with the people in the bottom. In July, 1895, C. W. Rule, son of Rev. John 
Rule (who was without charge), visited a few of the families in the Bottom 
and asked them if they would like to have a Sunday afternoon religious service. 


ANNALS OF THE POOR 155 


They responded that they would. So he appointed a service at three P. M. 
on the second Sabbath of July, and Rev. John Rule began the work on that 
date. 

‘They had prepared seats with some logs and some planks in front of a 
tenant house on the farm of A. R. Singleton, under several locust trees, about 
midway of the bottom. About one and one-half dozen people were present 
at the first service. Women came wearing their sunbonnets, the men in their 
shirt-sleeves. All were attentive, but though the gospel hymns were used, they 
knew but little how to sing them. At the close of the service, another appoint- 
ment was made for next Sabbath at the same house. Mr. Rule thought that 
some who had come to the first service had come out of curiosity and perhaps 
the next service would not be so well attended. In this, however, he was 
mistaken. There were more at the second service than there were at the first. 
These services were conducted regularly every Sabbath afternoon until the latter 
part of September. At the close of the services, September 22nd, one of the 
attendants at the service saw Mr. Rule and said to him. ‘Your preaching has 
stirred us all up. We want a protracted meeting if you will do the preaching. 
We have no place to hold it; but we can get some wagon-sheets and make a 
tent and light the tent with lanterns.’’ Mr. Rule told them to go ahead and 
build their tent and he would do the preaching; and that the meeting would 
begin the next Wednesday night, September 25th. 

“When he went down, he found the tent well filled, and interest was 
manifested from the very beginning. The meeting could be held in the tent 
only two nights, as the weather turned much cooler and the second night 
there was also considerable wind. So the place of service was changed to the 
house of a Mrs. Ulmer. The meeting continued for nine days. At the close of 
the meeting twenty-three persons, all grown, and quite a number of them heads 
of families, had come forward in evidence that they had accepted Christ and 
wished to live a Christian life. 

“The night before the meeting closed, a committee was sent out to meet Mr. 
Rule as he arrived at the meeting, to ask him how they were all to be baptized. 
He told them any way they preferred. There were not far off a Baptist, a 
Christian, a Methodist and a Presbyterian church. They could get to go into 
any one of these churches they chose to. The next night before the meeting 
opened, the committee met Mr. Rule and told him they had considered the 
matter and decided not to divide up but all would go with him. 

“The meeting closed on Friday night, and a meeting was appointed the 
following Sunday afternoon, at the house of Frank Smith, at which there 
would be a meeting of the Goshen Presbyterian session, to receive into 
that church all who desired to be received. The session met at Frank Smith's 
the following Sunday afternoon, October 6th, 1895. There were present Elders 
R. J. Woolfolk, Dr. A. M. Morrison, and Charles Collier. Rev. John Rule 
was invited to moderate the session. The session was opened with prayer. 
The following persons presented themselves as candidates for membership in 
the Goshen Church: Geo. Washburn, Mrs. Mary Washburn, Mrs. Alonzo Hall, 
Mrs. Mary Hall, Walter Hall, Wm. H. Hall, Mrs. Mary Hall, Mrs. Lulie Tacket, 
Frank Smith, Mrs. Lillie Smith, Lucian Stevens, Mrs. Sarah C. Stevens, Mrs. 

florence Bryson, Mrs. Cora Bryson, Chas. Bryson, Joseph A. Hall, Mrs. 


136 THES CIGH Me BEARBICS 


Mattie Hall, Chas. Smith, James Bryson, Mrs. Emma Bryson, Mrs. Belle 
Sears, Minerva Bryson, and Mrs. Mary Ulmer. 

“The above named persons upon profession of faith and having been 
baptized were received by the session into full communion with the Goshen 
Church. Session was closed with prayer. 

“Services were conducted every Sabbath. A place of worship was needed. 
These people said that while they had no money they would put in their time 
helping to build a chapel. A subscription was started among the Goshen 
people. A nice and comfortable chapel was built on a piece of land donated 
by A. R. Singleton, furnished and paid for, and was dedicated on Sunday, 
April 19, 1896. The dedication service sermon was preached’ by Rev. Thomas 
Converse, D. D., of Louisville, Kentucky. Mr. Singleton, in addition to giving 





THE WEST GOSHEN DAY: SCHOOL 


Taught by Miss’ Lizzie Wee 
About 1907 


a lot for the chapel also gave the land adjoining the lot of the chapel for a ceme- 
tery. The church and the cemetery were both enclosed with a nice fence with 
nice gates.”’ 


SPECIAL MEETING 
Louisville, Ky:, November 28, 1922. 


A Special Meeting of the Presbytery of Louisville was held today at 
the Presbyterian Theological Seminary at 2 p. m. 


The Presbytery was called to order by the Moderator Rev. P. H. Pleune, 
and was opened with prayer. 


PININA WO ORD LE Se BOOR 137 


There were present the following: Ministers—T. E. Gouwens, R. L. St. 
iat ae wW OCdson, lye.) Lieizerdey bo omithy Jt, sa. A. SHiggins, W. T. 
Meriroy, Ye. Pleune, J. V.) Logan; and Ruling Elder C: W. Rule,. of the 
Goshen church. 


Rev. L. V. Rule, of the Presbytery of New Albany, U. S. A., was invited 
to sit as a corresponding member. 


A petition was read, with the following fifty-seven names attached, asking 
for the organization of a church at West Goshen: 


Michael Carter, Mrs. Mary Hall, Theo Zimmerman, Mrs. Nettie Carter, 
Fred Hall, Mrs. Elam Elkins, Mrs. Daisy Hampton, Mrs. Fred Hall, Mrs. Mary 
Anne Miller, Virgil Hall, Birdie Harbin, Minnie May Harbin, Arthur Smith, 
Frank Smith, Mrs. Lillie Smith, Thomas Harbin, Ethel Yocum Hall, James Har- 
bin, Leola Smith, Mrs. Cora Henderson, Mrs. Mamie Walker, Catherine Smith. 
Dorothy Hall, Stanford “Smith, Thomas Smith, Demsey Smith, Aileen Carter, 
Hallie Hall, Elizabeth Hall, Chas. Walker, William Hampton, Wm. Hall Jr, 
Lee Rowen, Mrs. John Ditchler, Lottie Harbin, Mrs. Cunningham, Anna L. 
Harbin, Mrs. Mattie Hall, Oscar Smith, Manuel Washburn, Mrs. Oscar Smith, 
Leonard Walker, Lucile Cunningham, Alma Fay Beare, Wm. Horstman, Wesley 
Washburn, Paul Meeks, Louise Washburn, Mrs. Annie Rosenberger, John A. 
Ditchler, Mrs. Emma Horstman, Raymond Carter, Henry Perkinson, Rosa 
Horstman, Theodore Blythe, Gertrude Cosine, Elam Elkins. 


After a full statement of the history of the Mission at West Goshen 
and its present condition, by Rev. L. V. Rule and Ruling Elder C. W. Rule, 
and after a full discussion by the members of the Presbytery, the request was 
heartily granted. The following commission was appointed for the organiza- 
Honmoveciuemcburcos hey. A. A. Higgins, Chairman; -Reve W. TT. McElroy; 
hey ote tlcsmney.) Roo. ot, Clair, and Ruling: Elders Cy W.. ‘Rule and 
Cwen R. Mann. 


The Commission appointed to organize a church at West Goshen Chapel 
reported to Presbytery later on that it met at that place Sunday, December 
3, 1922, and was constituted with prayer. A sermon was preached by Rev. R. 
L. St. Clair, the constitutional questions were propounded by Rev. A. A. Higgins, 
tL. D., Chairman. A letter was presented from the Goshen church containing 
fifty-seven names who entered into the organization. The prayer was made 
by Rev. Lucian V. Rule, a member of the Commission by invitation. Elders 
and deacons were then elected and the Commission adjourned till January 7, 
1923, to complete the organization by the ordination and installation of the 
elders and the deacons. ‘There were present Rev. A. A. Higgins, Rev. R. L. 
St. Clair, Ruling: Elder Owen R. Mann, Rev. Lucian V. Rule, and Mr. 
Thomas B. Talbot, by invitation. 


On Sunday, January 7, 1923, the Commission met at the church and was 
opened with prayer and a sermon was preached. The following officers were 
ordained and installed: Ruling Elders Frank Smith, Elam Elkins; Deacons 
Arthur Smith and William Hampton. The name chosen for the church was the 
“Rule Memorial Church.’’ The organization was completed. The members of 
the Commission present were Rev. A. A. Higgins, Rev. Wm. T. McElroy, 
and Ruling Elder C. W. Rule. 


GHAPTER XX Vill 


Oo, ~ 
& 


Seu) ff? 





at West Ooshen 


2 5 





HE first school house of which we have record or tradition in the 
neighborhood of West Goshen stood on the Clarence Stoll farm 
in a beautiful woodland of native forest trees. It was on the hill 
sloping eastward and was built of logs with windows around the 

walls to let in the light upon the desks, which ran the entire length of the sides 
and were set in the walls wit a slope downward. The benches on the four sides 
oi the building were backless, the pupils sitting with faces to the wall and swing- 
ing around toward the middle of the room when the classes were called. A single 
long, backless recitation bench was the only additional furniture unless perhaps 
a simple desk or table and chair for the teacher. ‘This school flourished during 
the Mexican War and was taught by a Prof. William Johnson of New Eng- 
land, who was a man of real ability and under whom the children of the sur- 
rounding neighborhood made real progress. The establishment of a _ branch 
Goshen school at West Goshen in the year 1923 was in keeping with historic 
tradition and community necessity. The West Goshen School will do the same 
foundation work amoung the children of that neighborhood that is intended to 
be done in the small out-lying schools surrounding the consolidated school at 
Liberty above us. 

It is to Mr. W. B. Belknap, our worthy representative in the Legislature, 
that we are indebted for the move that has made this school at West Goshen 
financially possible. The statement at the head of the subscription paper prepared 
by Mr. Belknap for the people of West Goshen was simple and to the point, 
as follows: “‘In order to raise money for a school at West Goshen and to show 
the County Superintendent that we are in earnest, the undersigned make the 
following subscriptions for the year 1923-4.’’ Starting this paper off with a 
generous contribution himself, Mr. Belknap inspired others to take hold. He 
outlined to us in conversation the method and spirit necessary to make this 
school a success. Mr. Arthur Smith, a young deacon at West Goshen church, 
took this subscription paper and worked with a zeal highly commendable. J. A. 
Ditchler and several hard-working men of West Goshen made subscriptions that, 
in proportion to their earthly possessions, would deserve praise beyond all words. 
Mr. Eugene Pinnell, Mr. Rob Shrader, Mr. J. P. Nicholson, and other farmer 
friends of West Goshen came to the aid of the work with strong hands and will- 
ing hearts. ‘(wo mass meetings held on church days, with remarkable free dis- 
cussion from the men and women as in the old town meetings of New England, 
topped off with pie and chicken, cake and lemonade, not to mention juicy sand- 
wiches galore, unified these people to undertake what at the outset seemed but a 
fool’s dream. 

When the committee, which consisted of Eugene Pinnell, J. P. Nicholson, 
Rob Shrader, J. A. Ditchler, Arthur Smith, Fred Hall, C. W. Rule and Wes King, 
presented the appeal to the County Superintendent with the pledges made, he 


ANAL SiORgE lr Hiy ‘POOR 139 


was convinced, as Mr. Belknap had indicated he would be, by the pledge made. 
Prof. Selph deserves the highest commendation for the manner in which he 
presented the cause of these West Goshen children to the County Board of 
Education. The Board not only appropriated three hundred dollars without hesi- 
tation, but Mr. Wade Hampton of the Board afterward constantly advised and 
suggested in the details of this school. State Superintendent George Colvin sent 
a special school inspector with Prof. Selph to West Goshen and they directed 
what was needed and convinced themselves of the practical necessity of the school 
at this point. Prof. Selph with clear foresight predicted the thorough school 
privileges that would henceforth be given to those children as a matter of justice 
to the child of every humble citizen. We are as proud and happy over this little 
school as the Liberty people are over their new brick building. Mr. Selph said 
that in fact the entire school movement in this corner of the country is one with 
future education among us. The Goshen school itself is full and the West Gosnen 
school started off with thirty-three pupils. In the end it will give to the cnildren 
on the hill and to those in the bottom better chances and more thorough training. 
To Prof. Willis Kemp of Jefferson county we were also indebted for constant 
encouragement. This was all in fulfillment of prayer and sacrifice such as the 
cutside world but little dreams of, yet which Prof. Kemp saw and rallied to 
with unerring insight and human sympathy. 


“THE BACKWooDS SEMINARY” 


We are putting on record the detailed facts of this school movement in the 
Goshen and Liberty neighborhood because the people pushing it are unconsciously 
building on similar foundations laid one hundred years ago. The presence of the 
Todd brothers in the command of George Rogers Clark around Louisville had 
much to do with drawing Rev. John Todd, their first cousin, to this vicinity. 
He came to Kentucky from Hanover Presbytery, Virginia, in 1809. He was a 
New School man. In this he was in most hearty accord with Gideon Black- 
burn. Mr. Todd was perhaps too insistent over his views for he was most solemn- 
ly admonished by the Presbytery of Transylvania, August 14, 1812. The matter 
was carried to Synod but Presbytery took action April 15, 1813, positively 
suspending him for the time being. Mr. Todd’s appeal to the Synod 
was in vain. So he came to this frontier settlement to preach the gospel 
and to establish schools. We find him in the community east of 
Charlestown, Indiana, about this time promoting churches and schools among 
the pioneers. October 11, 1817, Transylvania Presbytery, upon his appeal 
and explanation of his views, restored him to full fellowship. These are painful 
facts to recall in the history of so great a man; but they give us a clue to the 
school movement in this section a century ago. The Legislature of Kentucky in 
1798 appropriated several land endowments to prospective backwoods seminaries, 
namely, Franklin, Salem, Jefferson and Lexington. Little’s ‘“‘Laws of Kentucky,” 
Vols. | and 2, give record of this transaction. The tract of land around Harrod’s 
Creek, and extending into what is now Oldham County, was such an appropri- 
ation for Transylvania Seminary, which Mr. Todd seems to have contemplated 
establishing at that time in this vicinity. We have, however, only problematic 
evidence of this. But since he and Dr. Blackburn seem to have together established 
the Acadamy in Goshen neighborhood shortly afterward and put the gifted son 
of Dr. Blackburn in charge, the evidence assumes a more probable character. 


140 JES LIGHTS bEARGRS 


Dr. Blackburn, as Moderator of the Synod of Kentucky at Shelbyville, Octo- 
ber 18, 1824, signed an order of Synod put forth as a Memorial regarding the 
original struggle of the Presbyterians over Transylvania Seminary. This me- 
morial recites that the Presbyterians gave the first impulse to a system of liberal 
education in Kentucky. The patrons of this movement were Rev. John Todd, Sr., 
Col. John Todd, Rev. David Rice and Hon. Caleb Wallace. The controversy 
involved also the library of Rev. John Todd, Sr., given to the Transylvania 
school. As this matter came up only a few years before Dr. Blackburn’s install- 
ation as President of Centre College we readily see that this is all one story. The 
Jefferson Seminary, mentioned with the other backwoods schools for which the 
Legislature of 1798 appropriated lands, was without doubt one of the earliest 
schools in Louisville, the trustees of which were John Thompson, William Cro- 
gan, Alexander S. Bullitt, James Merriweather, John Thurston, Henry Church- 
hill, William Taylor, and Richard Clough Anderson. 

The West Goshen day school fifteen years ago grew out of the Sunday 
school. George Washburn, Frank Smith, Will and Ed Hall and others who had 
children to educate, put their money together and appealed to the Presbyterian 
church for additional support. Miss Lizzie Lee, a splendid teacher from the 
Presbyterian church in Springfield, Ky., was employed. The Women’s Club, of 
Louisville, came to the front with one hundred dollars and a donation of 
books to the little library. Miss Lee taught for two years and was succeeded 
by Miss Merle Brown and Miss Nettie Hall. The good done was fundamental 
in character. And now the Presbyterian church has once more come to the aid 
of the little school to help establish it permanently. 


THOMAS B. TALBOT 


“The Little Man of the Mountains’ is Elder Thomas B. Talbot, Superin- 
tendent of Home Missions in West Lexington Presbytery. He came to West 
Goshen for the basket meeting on Sunday, September 2, 1923. The people 
have been devoted to him ever since the revival in the fall of 1922. He 
made a talk at the basket meeting which will never be forgotten. 

Mr. Talbot is the spiritual child of Evangelist E. O. Guerrant, the famous 
Presbyterian mountain missionary. Like Dr. Guerrant, he is a small man 
but very much alive. After conducting the last big chapel service at the Indiana 
Reformatory before its removal from Jeffersonville, he arrived at West Goshen 
when the good women were spreading the chicken and pie, the sandwiches and 
cakes. Bubbling over with fun and beaming with humor, he set the crowd to 
laughing in a moment. ‘This continued during the entire bountiful meal. A 
photograph was taken of the assemblage immediately after dinner. The Goshen 
pastor and his people were well represented. The afternoon service was a 
climax of the school movement for the entire summer. Mr. Talbot said that 
he was the father of four daughters and two sons, one of whom, his own 
namesake, was with him. He said that his other boy reached a point in his 
education where he was ready to stop, and that it required the exercise of 
unyielding parental authority to push the boy past this crisis. His son said to 
him not long ago that he would now place a value of ten thousand dollars on 
that one year when he continued at school. Mr. Talbot showed the people of 
West Goshen what their sacrifice would mean in years to come. He gave 


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Lay WHE SEIGH TT BEARERS 


instances from his mountain work that prove the possibilities bound up in 
the country boy and girl. He closed with an appeal to the parents to stand 
by their work. 

Mr. Wes King arose and followed Mr. Talbot with very earnest words to 
the same effect. C. W. Rule, Trustee of Goshen and West Goshen schools, 
announced the success of the school movement with enthusiasm. Mr. Virgil 
Snowden was present with his wife, who sang in the service. He arose and 
said: “I wish to add my word of gratitude at the success of this school move- 
ment. I have known you people since my boyhood. I have worked and toiled 
in the field by your side for many years. I have known your struggles and 
bardships to provide for your families; and I know as well as you do the 
sacrifice you have made to put this school over financially. You will find 
that education is the basis of your religion if it is not to be mere blind feeling. 
Cive your boys and girls something in this school that time can not take from 
them. Prepare them for the future; and in the end you will realize a success 
out of your struggles that you can scarcely dream of now.” 

Mrs. Wes King, Miss Mary Collier, and others put in a word of hope 
and good cheer. Aileen Carter sang a very sweet song of service that was 
echoed in every heart. As we sat there beside Mr. Talbot we remembered 
the little log school house on the Stoll farm where our mother went long ago. 
The preachers of Old Goshen church were mostly teachers of the community 
school as a matter of necessity. Elder Francis Snowden took care of the 
pastor teachers during his lifetime. In his old age and after his death they 
were cared for at the Woolfolk home. 

Mr. Talbot was spiritually nourished in the arms of the fathers and 
mothers of Israel belonging to that generation. The traditions of the pioneer 
Presbyterian teachers and pastors around Danville stamped something upon his soul 
that later on called him from a successful business life into the real work of the 
ministry. The revival meeting of October 1923 at West Goshen was in his 
hands. The church and social work intermingled. [The aim was to give 
the humblest and most distant child of the community access to the _ best 
possible mental training and moral development. 

It is by no means strange that the most cultured and refined Presbyterian 
families should produce pastors of the people and evangelists of the common 
life. Evangelist Talbot is a direct descendant of Governor Owsley and inherits 
his marvelous humor and human anecdote from the line of his mother’s sister— 
Miss Nannie Barbee, the impersonator and dialect reciter of Danville. Evangelist 
Talbot's mother was left a widow with six children and she was a teacher 
for forty years. He said recently that her memory was the richest inheritance 
of his life. When he stood beside her casket and looked upon the beloved 
face for the last time he bewailed with bitter tears the recollection of the slightest 
impatience and inappreciation he had ever shown for the sacrifices in his behalf. 
Her good husband was a Freemason and friends were kind to her when he 
was gone; but nevertheless it was no easy matter to face life with six children 
to support and educate on the salary paid to teachers in the State of Kentucky 
forty and fifty years ago. 

The Talbots were of Virginia descent, but there was sold some time ago 
in the city of New York by a dealer in rare books and literary treasures an old 


AIWINALS © OFA hi Ee POOR 1S 


Talbot family Bible of precisely the same date and print and edition as the 
famous Dallas family Bible which Dr. Rob Morris presented to Fortitude 
Lodge after the Civil War. We understand that the gentleman who pur- 
chased the old Talbot Bible cherishes it very highly and has made of it a 
family Bible of his own household. Evangelist Talbot has never become a 
Freemason, but he says he holds the order in highest regard because of his 
father’s Masonic memory. One time when the evangelist was a boy there was 
a Christian judge in the town where he lived who stopped him on the street 
and took the widow’s son home to dinner. The judge encouraged him to 
have an ambition in life and never to give up because he was poor. Mr. Talbot 
was a little boy when Rev. John Rule was the Presbyterian minister at Carlisle, 
Ky. The next pastor at the old church there was Rev. Dr. Scudder, who 
remained for half a century. A revival meeting was held in the town by Rey. 
Edward O. Guerrant, the mountain evangelist, who was an old school mate 
of Rev. John Rule at Center College, Danville. Tom Talbot was converted 
in that meeting and became so impressed with the famous preacher’s mountain 
mission that in after years he stepped into Dr. Guerrant’s place by the unani- 
mous choice of the Presbyterian church, U. S. From a very busy life, and a 
very large field of labor, Evangelist Talbot came each October to the little 
West Goshen Mission as one of the happiest experiences of his life. He 
always sent word ahead to Brother and Mrs. Frank Smith at West Goshen 
to kill the fatted chicken and bake the biggest apple pie that the oven would 
hold. This year (1923) Mr. Talbot could only remain a few days to start 
the revival; but the laughter and tears his genial talks brought forth were like a 
refreshing from the Lord, and ten souls had found salvation the first three nights 
of the meeting. He made special talks on respecting the teacher and upholding 
the school; and he boosted the good road movement as the next local accom- 
plishment. 

Mr. Talbot sent in his place for the remainder of the revival one of his 
young pastor-teachers from the Kentucky mountain schools—Rev. Mr. Bran- 
denburg. The young man was reared in the heart of Lexington, and left 
a business life, even after marriage, to become principal of a Presbyterian Acad- 
emy in Breathitt county. His wife was matron and nurse and says that 
those boys and girls at ten years of age are better trained to become intelligent 
Christians and active church members than the older generation at fifty. The 
first night Mr. Brandenburg occupied the pulpit at West Goshen he remarked 
upon the similarity of the church and school work in that community to what 
Mr. Talbot and he conduct and direct in the live centers of Eastern Kentucky. 
Miss Wilson, the West Goshen teacher, was a splendid young student of 
Hanover College, though a member of the Christian church. Thus in an 
absolutely non-sectarian manner the cultural and spiritual work of the old 
Goshen Academy is being revived and restored to all classes of people. 


GHAR TER sexeCi XS 


A New Cime Renturkian 


T is very gratifying to see the historic old homesteads on the Upper 
River Road, that have been vacated by the last survivors of the pio- 
neer people, taken over by worthy descendants of other families no 
less noted in the annals of early Kentucky history. Of no other 
homestead in this statement so true as that of the Magruder residence now owned 
by our good neighbor, William B. Belknap. We have just returned from renewed 
researches into the traditions of the Pigeon Roost Massacre across the river in the 
War of 1812, which so terrorized the settlements in this vicinity and drove the peo- 
ple to take refuge in the big brick house, which is now Mr. Belknap’s home. On 
Wednesday evening, July 1, 1925, we visited Mr. Belknap at the familiar old 
place so long associated with the Magruders, who were very dear to us. The 
soft moonlight silvered the landscape and sky toward the west, which had 
glowed with an unusually beautiful sunset. We crossed the field to the big 
sycamore that used to shelter the cool, bubbling spring and spring house. 
Memory and sentiment intermingled tenderly as we thought of the simple, hos- 
pitable Kentuckians of the olden time who sleep now in the quiet enclosure beyond 
the residence. Mr. Belknap remarked upon the extraordinary skill and industry 
that had erected so massive a brick homestead right out of the green woodland 
in 1811. He has left the residence practically intact with the exception of 
some modern improvements and conveniences; and the addition of a stone-built, 
fireproof wing to the left front is for the purpose of sheltering the priceless 
library and treasures of art and literature which have fallen to the custody 
of Mr. Belknap since the family home in Louisville was broken up by the 
death of his parents. 

When we characterize Mr. Belknap as “‘A New ‘Time Kentuckian,” 
it goes without saying that his instincts and inheritances of domestic, social, 
and cultured life are from the same ancestral sources that made the home and 
family life of the Old Time Kentuckians so pleasing to contemplate and so 
inspiring to a poet-singer like Stephen Foster. Mr. Belknap welcomes you with 
the peculiar simplicity and sincerity and heartiness of the good old days; and you 
have to see him under his own home roof to sense the personality and spirit 
of the man who has meant so much to “‘The Land O’ Goshen’’ since he settled 
in it. Some people thought he wouid be but a bird of passage when he 
purchased the old Magruder home; but the addition of the stone wing to shelter 
his cultural treasures and family archives, and the devoted domestic life he has 
established here in our midst with his charming and congenial wife and two 
little children, proves to us that he is no sojourner of a day but a dweller 
for time to come. His ancestors came down the Ohio river on the log floats 
of Indian days and dangers, like other pioneers; they landed like the Zachary 
Taylor clan and other forerunners, on the high banks of the Ohio between Har- 
rods Creek and the Falls; and they have been identified with Louisville and the 


PONIN AL Si O bape Ee POOR yA 


Upper River Road country for more than a century. So that no man from 
the Falls city could more naturally or rightfully become the inheritor and 
preserver of the best traditions and ideals of ‘“The Land O’ Goshen’”’ than Mr. 
Belknap. 

William B. Belknap belongs to the younger generation that has grown 
up since the Civil War and has understood at first hand all the problems of 
social and political life that the Civil War left us. He is descended from the 
best New England family stock but you will not find much about his people 
in the old histories of Louisville. It was a family tradition of the Belknaps 
to serve and work instead of holding themselves up as society leaders. They 
most emphatically have never been members of the so-called ‘“‘Four Hundred”’ 





“LAND O’GOSHEN” 
Home of William B. Belknap 


of high society, though none were more clearly entitled thereto by blood and 
wealth. It was contrary to their every instinct to have any such aspirations or 
pretentions. They were always able to make a good living and to accumulate 
by working and not by living off of the community. In support of these 
statements we are going to quote here enter the oniy available family sketch 


146 (THE SUIGH PeBEARERS 


of the Belknaps to be found in any Louisville or Kentucky history; and even 
this was not published until ten years ago, after the death of Mr. Belknap’s 
father.. It is now most worthily added to the annals of aur county because Mr. 
Belknap is now settled among us for life and has identified himself with every 
matter of interest and progress and growth in this community and the county 
at large. 

“The American history of the family,’’ says this chronicle, ‘‘goes back 
to the early years of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, when a Belknap came from 
Liverpool and settled at Lynn, Massachusetts, and later at historic Salem, 
where he died in 1643. His son, Abraham Belknap, became a member of the 


Haverhill Colony in November, 1677. Among his four sons was Samuel 
Belknap, who married an Aunt of Rob Morris, a signer of the Declaration of 
Independence . The next generation of the family was represented by Joseph 


Belknap, whose son William was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, about 1740. 
His son, Morris Burke Belknap, was born in Massachusetts June 25, 1780, 
and died in Livingston county, Kentucky, July 26, 1837. He married 
Phoebe Locke Thompson, who died in Arkansas, February 5. 1873. 

Morris B. Belknap left the old home in Massachusetts in 1807 and first 
located at Marietta, Ohio, where he was a pioneer in the development of the 
iron industry west of the Alleghanies. In 1816 he moved to Pittsburgh, and 
was influential in promoting some of the first rolling mills in that city. In 
1827 he prospected the ore fields of the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers, 
traveling on horseback, and later organized the capital for the building of 
iron furnaces in Steward County, Tennessee and at Nashville. 


“His son, William Burke Belknap, founder of the business known as the 
Belknap Hardware and Manufacturing Company, was born at Brimfield, Mass., 
May 17, 1811, and was educated at Pittsburgh. At the age of sixteen his father 
delegated him the responsibility of transporting the household goods from Pitts- 
burgh to Tennessee, and the duty of securing new machinery for the iron furnace 
in the West. He embarked the property on a flatboat, which had to be unloaded 
at Louisville and portaged around the falls. He was associated with his father 
for. several years in the iron business, and at the age of nineteen began his 
independent career at Hickman, Fulton County, Kentucky, as a general merchant. 
With other associates he developed a business which became well known 
along the Lower Mississippi, and continued to prosper until the panic of 1837. 

“In 1840 William B. Belknap re-established himself at Louisville as agent 
for a firm of Pittsburgh manufacturers of nails and boiler plate. In 1847 
he and Captain Thomas C. Coleman bought a rolling mill and began the 
manufacture of bar iron, an industry with which he continued to be identified 
for many years. He had also organized W. B. Belknap and Company as 
dealers in heavy iron and heavy hardware, his business partner for several vears 
being his brother, Morris Lacke Belknap. Later he acquired full control of 
the business and incorporated it as the Belknap Hardware and Manufacturing 
Company. This corporation as wholesalers represented some of the largest 
manufacturers of standard hardware and metal equipment in the United States, 
and the company also entered the field of manufacturing and was interested in a 
number of manufacturing industries. It would be difficult to name one of 
the great commercial industries centered in Louisville that did more to give 


ANNALS -OR] THE qPOOR 147 


the city its prestige as a commercial metropolis. William B. Belknap was also 
at one time President of the Southern Bank at Louisville. He died February 
24, 1889, at the age of seventy-eight.”’ 

Now we could go on with facts of the family history; how William 
B. Belknap, Sr., was married in 1845 to Mary Richardson, born in Lexington, 
Ky,. June 11, 1821, and who survived her husband many years. She was the 
daughter of William Richardson, of Louisville, a leading banker and financier. 
She was a woman of great force and benevolence of character, like her husband, 
and the Belknap home in Louisville was open at all times to noble women like 
Aunt Martha Eubank of the Presbyterian Orphanage, and the Masonic Widows 
and Orphans’ Home. 

The world never will know the extent of the human service rendered by 
the Senior Mr. and Mrs. Belknap in the causes of charity, education, and city 
missions of every worthy sort. Nor was it by anything but a good providence 
that William B. Belknap, Jr., of our own generation, was named for this 
sturdy and kind-hearted New England grandfather. The younger man was 
not called to success in business enterprise. His father, William R. Belknap, in- 
herited the organizing and directing genius in the big Belknap Company; and 
it is a matter of touching interest that when William B. Belknap Jr., had lost 
his mother in early childhood, he was afterward, in his young manhood, called 
upon to relinquish his entrance into business to be a companion of his father 
and to oversee his father’s affairs, who had become an invalid in the prime 
of life. 

William B. Belknap, Jr., born in Louisville April 18, 1885, educated in 
the public schools and the Manual Training School of the city, completed his 
education at Harvard and Yale. He won the John Harvard Fellowship at Har- 
vard and the Ricardo prize scholarship for his work in economics. He was 
still pursuing his studies when his father’s death occurred and when the 
World War broke out. He met these two trying emergencies in a spirit of 
unselfish devotion. Having discharged his duties as a son, in due time he 
offered himself to his country for overseas service. He was turned down 
because of physical unfitness by the recruiting officers in both army and navy; 
but he persisted and went overseas as a Captain with the American Red Cross. 
He had no thought of withholding his own life in the cause of the country and 
human kind. Indeed, he told us that when he left our shores he felt as every 
other young man in the service did—that he, in all probability, would never 
come back alive. What he saw and encountered “‘Over There’ will be reserved 
for our next recital, with other facts of supreme interest to us now since the 
Great Conflict is a matter of history. 


OVS V WEI ERE 20,06 


Miracle of Roamsen 





HE above title was given to a stirring story of Red Cross hospital 
building by our American boys overseas in a great emergency that 
arose in Southwest England where Captain William B. Belknap was 
assigned for active service. George Buchanan Fife, who told the 

story in his book, “‘The Passing Legions,’’ tells how the American Red Cross 
met the American Army in Great Britain, the Gateway to France. He says that 
the exhilaration and incentive born of service at the front, and of contact with 
actual fighting, adventure and danger where shot and shell were thickest, were 
denied to the American Red Cross staff in Great Britain. But nevertheless there 
were dramatic times and experiences. Their services lay back of the lines—‘‘for a 
million American soldiers passed through England on their long journey to the 
battle zone—or on leaving or returning, wounded and worn, from the firing line. 
To these men it ministered in many ways which are past forgetfulness.” . 

Mr. Belknap had been studying at Chicago University in 1913-14, and at 
Harvard in 1914-16. He had formed some very fond friendships that were 
suddenly and rudely interrupted by the outbreak of the World Conflict. On his 
arrival in France with the American Red Cross he was assigned to duty at Rom- 
sey in Southwest England, where the emergency we have just mentioned had 
arisen. The transformation of a temporary camp for the passing soldiers into a 
big permanent hospital with every needed equipment was demanded of our Amer- 
ican Red Cross. They responded with instant determination. There was no 
regular labor unit to be had for building purposes in all England, and it became 
imperative to utilize shifts of our own men sojourning temporarily at the camp 
at Romsey. It was in the spring months, said to be the most beautiful imagin- 
able in the British Isles. A young contractor and architect in the ranks from 
Rhode Island offered his services and the work got under way. Sometimes the 
working units of Americans could only get in two or three days and then pass on, 
leaving their task but half finished. Yet the undertaking went forward aston- 
ishingly, and in due season one of the best equipped places of the war became a 
reality at Romsey. [hat was the ‘‘miracle’ referred to; and the author of ‘‘The 
Passing Legions’’ quotes Captain Belknap’s daily observations and weekly reports 
of their work as follows:. 

‘The influenza epidemic struck this camp just as we were ready to open our 
new hospital. We rushed the final work and were able to take care of all the 
patients as they came. Fortunately the Red Cross storehouses were well stocked 
with blankets, pneumonia jackets, pajamas, towels and all the other things which 
were needed in this emergency. Every man of the Red Cross staff worked eight- 
een hours a day during the time of high pressure and did everything from help- 
ing to undress patients to carrying in supplies. 

“The Red Cross has now assisted in 500 cases of American soldiers unable 
for various reasons to get their back pay. 


ANNALS OF GHEE POOR 4a 


“We had in camp here this week approximately 100 transient women of 
the United States Army, the majority being telephone girls and nurses. They 
were housed by the Red Cross, and we did all we could to make their stay com- 
fortable. They used the Red Cross Reading Room at Abbotswood in the even- 
ings and had at all times the use of the Red Cross Nurses’ Club in the camp. 

“The refitting and interior work on the Officers Club is now completed, 
and all permanent officers, both of the camp and hospital, are now quartered in 
rooms on the upper floor, while the lower floors included mess-halls, lounges, 
reading and writing rooms, not only for the permanent officers of the camp, but 
also for the scores of transients who are found in the camp every day. 





WILLIAM B. BELKNAP 


“The Nurses’ Club has overflowed its old quarters and a piece of land ad- 
jacent has been leased on which a large hut is being erected to accommodate the 
overflow. We are bearing all the expenses in connection with this house. 

“The signing of the Armistice has put a stop to the construction and equip- 
ment work on our canteen building for troops arriving at Romsey Rest Camp. 
This would have opened in about a fortnight, with equipment for canteening 
about 2,000 troops at one time.”’ 

Mr. Belknap said that he witnessed all the horrors of men shot to pieces 
in battle, their backs blown off, pieces of shell in the brain, and a thousand and 
one indescribable instances of suffering. He learned to forget himself in helping 
his countrymen in their dire need of succor and solace. When he arrived to go 
on duty as officer in charge at the Romsey Hospital it is said that a certain su- 
perior had opinion of him that he could talk books and culture and art and 
would possible ‘‘play out’? in a couple of weeks. But William Belknap was 


150 Las OL GHD AR ERs 


not that sort. He lost all thought of anything but ministering to these soldier 
boys in every imaginable distress and necessity. They trusted him as a comrade 
and brother. He saw them away from home, face to face with conditions that 
tested them to the uttermost. He saw the seamy side of War with the glory 
worn off. He lived for weeks and months under mental and moral stress with 
our boys ‘“‘Over There.’’ We shall never forget the description given of the first 
awful days by Ernest P. Bicknell, on his return to America in the fall of 1914. 
Nor shall we soon forget the description given by Mr. Belknap of the terrible 
ordeal through which our nurses and ministering comrades of the Red Cross serv- 
ice had to pass as their part and experience of the great world tragedy. 


And now that the Big War is over, let us address ourselves to the demands 
of peace and its problems here at home. Mr. Belknap has never been a stranger 
to struggling and suffering. He had a spell of scarlet fever in childhood that 
made it necessary for him to fight a battle for health just as strenous as that 
of Theodore Roosevelt. His coming to Oldham County to live was in great 
part with the purpose of getting back to Nature and the soil, which give back 
vigor and strength and resources with which to endure the demands of human 
service. Mr. Belknap had to take over at his father’s death great benevolent 
interests as his Berea College and University of Louisville activities. These en- 
terprises in the forward work of education and enlightenment are among the most 
vital of our time and State; and Mr. Belknap has devoted his personal atten- 
tion and strength and means to these causes just as he gave himself in the World 
War. He has shared rightly the confidence and gratitude of numberless youth 
whose pathway to education and success in life has been made possible by him. 
In this ideal world of service Mrs. Belknap has been equally distinguished. 

With reference to public affairs here at home, Mr. Belknap says a close study 
of public finance and public expenditure reveals the fact that whereas one 
twelfth of the net income of the nation was expended before the World War, 
we have been expending one-sixth since the war. The demand for better roads, 
schools, and such necessities, also calls for a closer study where to get the 
money to do these things without wrecking the property of the nation; how 
to spread the tax and burdens more equally among the population; and how 
to solve and settle the problem of inheritance taxes. We may remark in pass- 
ing that Mr. Belknap possesses a native aptitude for economic and social prob- 
lems, for he is a grandson of Prof. Benjamin Silliman of Yale, who was a 
master of these same subjects. Mr. Belknap has been chairman of a committee 
on inheritances in the National Tax Association, which has rendered notable 
service in untangling these perplexing problems in all the States of the Union: 
and he has represented Kentucky, by appointment of the Governor, at Wash- 
ington City to straighten out the matter of inheritance taxes so the States can 
continue to get the revenue from them without working injustice in any way. 
It is not the purpose of this article to interpret or quote the views of Mr. 
Belknap upon any of these important and difficult subjects, because they are 
issues upon which he alone must speak for himself. We merely wish to point 
out that in all his study and research along these fundamental lines he has not 
only sought to set forth the facts justly and fully, without any selfish thought 
or class interest whatever; but that he collected material for a book representing 
five years of tireless investigation; and he has been quoted as an impartial, de- 


FANINALSS Oberle POOR: Lb-1 


pendable authority many times by the Saturday Evening Post. It is not at 
all surprising that as the representative of his constituency in the Legislature 
at Frankfort Mr. Belknap enjoyed the confidence of his colleagues to such an 
extent that the measures he advocated and saw enacted into law were adopted 
without any dissent whatever, even from partisans. That is the spirit in which 
he approaches every problem of the public good. He is a typical Kentuckian 
in that respect; for indeed the Old English love of fair play les at the root of 
his sense of justice. In this he absolutely duplicates James Stapleton Crutch- 
field who filled a similar place of public trust in our county one hundred 
years ago. This is the soul of his Masonic ideal also; for he is a most de 
voted member of that Brotherhood. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


~ 


WW. N. Cavlor Discusses the LDuture of 
& o 8} > 





On 





®©oshen Church and Community 
> ey > o 2 


T the January meeting of the Filson Club in Louisville the present 
year, 1925, the secretary, Mr. Otto Rothert, gave us three kodak 
pictures of the graves of Commodore Richard Taylor and wife, 
of Revolutionary times, buried on the Thomas Bottorff farm near 

Shrader’s Landing in Oldham county. These pictures were taken October 22, 
1924. when Dr. R. A. Bate, J. E., Miller, Otto Rothert and R. C. Ballard- 
Thurston visited the old Taylor home and burial place in search of data for 
the paper of Dr. Bate read before the society at its January meeting. This 
paper covered much of the same material that we published on the same subject 
in our Oldham History a few years ago. Dr. Bate is a descendant of the Com- 
modore and gave attention to every fact and detail and the paper was really a 
centennial memorial of the brave old Commodore's decease in our home com- 
munity one hundred years ago. We were much impressed with the remarks 
of a cultured Taylor descendant of our generation regarding the strange lack of 
pride in a centennial of LaGrange and Oldham county in 1923-1924. We could 
not explain this indifference ourselves because we had repeatedly urged and 
supported a fitting celebration while publishing the county history in the columns 
of the Era. Perhaps most people deemed the history itself sufficient, but we 
made up our mind that Goshen should have a fitting celebration and home- 
coming this present year of grace. 

For some years past one of the worthiest and most representative Taylor 
descendants has had his summer home at Goshen. We refer to Mr. W. N. 
Taylor of Pittsburgh, Pa., who purchased and medernized the old Wesley Shrader 
farm just above Goshen. We are not prepared to give any reliable facts or 
details regarding the ancestry of our Mr. Taylor, but he says the History of 
Washington County, Pa., has the family story in full. Several Taylor brothers 
crossed the Atlantic and landed at Baltimore and Mr. Taylor says he has often 
wondered if some of these brothers did not scatter out and come to Kentucky 
and the Ohio Valley by way of Virginia. He says there are many Taylors in 
Western Pennsylvania and at points up and down the Ohio Valley—more perhaps 
than anywhere else in the country. There are nearly sixty Taylors listed in 
the Cumberland Telephone Company book in Louisville and they may be found 
far and near. How near of kin they are we cannot say; but it shows how large 
the clan connection is. Our Mr. Taylor says one of his ancestors, Henry Taylor, 
was a surveyor and came to Washington county, Pa., far back in early times. 
He cut a tomahawk circle on all the trees of the forest surrounding a certain 
tract of land which he lay claim to. He had another man build a cabin on it 
and left for the winter. When he returned some squatters had taken possession 


Gé6l “HOWNHO NHHSOD GIO AO IVINNGLINGO 














Nae Whey ei Ghee Bo BARERS 


and the county records show where Henry Taylor had to resort to legal measures 
to oust them. Henry Taylor was a man of unusual culture and character and 
one thing about him seems amusing to us now. - He was called up and churched 
by the session of the famous old Redstone Presbyterian Meeting House in Western 
Pennsylvania for dancing the Virginia reel at an evening party. The Virginia 
and Kentucky Taylors were all a lively and social type of people and not the 
solemn, blueback Puritan brand at all. 

But Mr. W. N. Taylor is a Presbyterian. He became one by voluntary 
choice and is an active supporter and most liberal contributor to the Goshen 
Presbyterian church. During a recent stay at his home in Goshen we called upon 
him and we discussed in most refreshing fashion the early pioneers, the old 
village church centennial and the adaptation of it to modern community condi- 
tions and needs. He had been trimming trees all day, for he is a real dirt farmer 
and orchard man while among us. He was enjoying a smoke with a comely little 
black pipe and in conversation he is full of anecdote and illustration. Speaking 
of the local church and its future, he said when he first came among us some 
years ago he was several times disappointed at finding the church closed on 
Sunday and no regular service held. He was one man who immediately advocated 
opening up the House of God every Sunday in the year for some sort of service, 
and he came to the front in a generous way to make this possible. He is not 
a man who mentions his liberalities. In fact, when we spoke of what he and 
his good wife had meant to the church and community he said that he was 
glad they could be helpful; but that a church was more democratic and progres- 
sive when everyone did his part financially and took his part spiritually in the 
meetings. He is a most unassuming, neighborly man and spoke of the past 
generation in the history of the church and community when people were mostly 
of the same social level and culture and evidently very happy together. 

Mr. Taylor, at our request, recalled the time some twenty-five years or 
more ago when he and his wife had purchased land for a suburban home near 
Pittsburg. A community of splendid people were growing together there, but 
they were more than a mile away from churches in all directions. For a while 
they walked the main line of the Pennsylvania Railroad to go to service Sunday 
mornings; but at last he and an old Union soldier took papers around and got 
the pledges of the people to put up a sort of community church in their midst. 
The first meeting had been held at Mr. Taylor’s home and a committee of 
solicitation appointed, but they approached the people so gingerly and timidly 
that they got nowhere. So Mr. Taylor and the old soldier recanvassed the 
neighborhood and told those same people to put down the full amount they 
really meant to give. The result was beyond satisfaction and although the 
majority voted to organize a Presbyterian church, everybody went in and they 
had a congregation of real Christians. 

Protestant people are too much divided, said Mr. Taylor. He mentioned 
how the Catholic working people go to early mass and then later there is the 
regular morning service for others who cannot attend so soon. ‘They are not 
all split up into separate groups and sects as we are. He said that the people 
were often ahead of their spiritual leaders in being ready for religious and social 
unity. Men who promote division merely to uphold their particular church and 
creed are church politicians and not true spiritual shepherds of the people. He 


ANNALS # Ober THE SePOOR HAD 


felt that in a community like ours here we should all cultivate the get-together 
and go-to-church habit. We should support the services of the House of God 
or else our Protestantism may fall into decay by reason of our conflicts with 
one another. We were happy to assure him that the spirit of friendly co-oper- 
ation and fellowship had long been the rule and practice in our midst here. 

When it came to the manifestation of the spirit of Christ toward all men, 
Mr. Taylor came right to the point; and we take the liberty of mentioriing the 
fact that when he heard of the illness of our worthy young blacksmith in 
Goshen, who is a tenant of his, Mr. Taylor went right to the house and made 
personal investigation of the young man’s condition. He later went to the bedside 
and made practical and most helpful suggestions about caring for him, which 
the family faithfully followed. . Mr. Taylor has been close to the sick a great 
deal, though a man of perfect health; and his kindness and his human interest 
in those who live on his farm and work for him is a spirit that cannot be 
too highly appreciated. He spoke in most genuine terms of the worthy charac- 
teristics and possibilities in the human types occupying the farms and cultivating 
them today in the community; and Mr. Taylor desires above all things to see 
a resident minister on the Goshen work who can lead us on to larger unity and 
service. We mentioned the unusual qualities of David N. Roller, the gifted and 
eloquent young Seminary man, who reminded us strongly of Gideon Blackburn 
in his younger years; and we remarked upon what a splendid leader he would 
be if he could be persuaded to remain among us after his ordination. Mr. Taylor 
said he had never met or heard Mr. Roller, but he saw the marked increase in 
attendance on the services since he was last here. And he felt with us that the 
need of the neighborhood right at home demanded the services of as capable and 
consecrated a man of God as the foreign field itself. The Goshen and West 
Goshen churches and schools under large minded spiritual leadership can prepare 
the way for a community life equal to the old in years to come. Mr. Taylor 
said he had been sufficiently interested in the old neighborhood here to even 
wish to spend his retiring years with us. Business interests will likely prevent 
this, but he is vitally interested in the local situation and no pioneer of a century 
past has been a more genuine addition to the human stock of the splendid old 
families of the community. He was reading John Fiske’s History of the American 
Revolution and he has been a very close reader of every chapter in the History 
of Oldham County. He mentioned how the hireling Hessian soldiers of the 
Revolution settled down at Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and became the progenitors 
of the sturdy Pennsylvania Dutch and he discussed most illuminatingly the trans- 
formation of the present day human raw material into worthy and dependable 
citizenship. This, said he, is the biggest task and problem that confronts us 
here at home. 


op [i Qe ee ae Ap Bae 
Sram Servitude ta Service 





NOSErHeo COTTER*AND CHIEDREN AT’ STORY HOUR, 


TA dats eee ct 





UNCLE WILLIAM AND AUNT VIOLET 


WO old men sat talking in a Louisville office about twenty-five years 
ago. They were brothers. One was a retired lawyer, the other a 
farmer. The lawyer, white-haired and weak, told how weary he 
and his wife were keeping their house on the avenue. 

“Why even our butler came to me and said: ‘Boss, does you know dat 
you’se got five niggers to wait on jes’ dat many white folks? Hit don’t pay, 
Boss.’ He’s right and we've sold out.” . 

The farmer gloomily remarked that his big place was a burden to him in 
his old age; and wished he, too, could retire. 

“By the way, William was up to see me the other day,’’ resumed the 
lawyer, referring to a faithful slave of the family. “He was in need, and | 
gave him some money. Lives in a little room over his sister on G street. He’s 
seventy-four now. Curious he never accumulated anything after freedom. 
Wasn't he economical, or did he drink?’’ 

“No: William was unusually good at saving his wages,’’ answered the 
farmer, whom Uncle William nursed in childhood. ‘‘He never drank, either. 
You know he had a large family, he and- Violet, and they were hard workers.’ 

“I met William’s son, Jacob,, on the street,’’ continued the lawyer. ‘Told 
him he oughtn’t to let his old father suffer. Asked him if he ever helped the 
old man. Said yes, he sent the old man a dollar Christmas.”’ 

The two brothers laughed and wondered how Uncle William had wintered 
on one hundred cents! Not strange at all that he so often sighed for the old 
days of bondage! 

When I was a little child Uncle William and Aunt Violet lived in the 
cabin on the hill near our old home. ‘Their children were our playmates from 
infancy. Each of us had a playmate our own age, we brothers. They ad- 
dressed their parents as “‘Pahbuh and Muh,’’ at which we often laughed; but 
it was a real fellowship we shared. 

The earliest recollections of my childhood center around that old cabin, 
now gone, and replaced by a more modern wage-worker’s dwelling. I 
remember Uncle William hauling wood. I stood in awe of him when he 
came home, though he never addressed me unkindly. I witnessed a genuine 
house-raising when the cabin was remodeled. We children played up and down 
the hill all day long. A dim recollection comes back to me now of an old 
Negro man; Uncle Sam was his name; and he had a large wen on the side 
of his head. He was found dead in the field, and the Sunday of his interment 
was a beautiful morning. Uncle William's family were busy dressing and black- 


ing their shoes to go to the funeral services; and it impressed me strangely. 


nk OME SEV DEO DE eT OOS ER VIGE ses, 


Henry was always my playmate. I shall never forget how melancholy 
I was when he died of tuberculosis, or ‘“‘consumption,’’ as we then called it, the 
dread disease that made such ravages in Uncle William’s family. I was a boy of 
eleven at school, and as the sad procession wended its way through the village, 
an humble spring-wagon containing the casket covered with a dark cloth, Uncle 
William, Aunt Violet, the family and a few friends following afoot in true 
peasant fashion, it smote me with unspeakable pain and sympathy. For days I 
had a nameless dread of the Great Destroyer, Death, which had smitten my little 
comrade. 





“UNCLE WILLIAM’ 


Faithful old slave of the “Old Black Joe” type, unedu- 
cated, humble and pathetically attached to the old home 
and surroundings. Passed his old age in exile in the city, 
longing for “De ole folks at home,” 


Uncle William grew up in the house of our grandmother with her eldest- 
born son, James. She taught them both to read and write. William learned 
fairly well. He was only an average Negro. Yet he was honest and truthful. 
One day grandmother found a note scribbled by William, saying, “‘Betsy stol 
flor.’ So she knew that Betsy had been in the flour. 

Uncle William was drafted during the Civil War, but by not rushing in 
where names were being enrolled, he got off when they had enough men. He 
courted and married Aunt Violet, a slave on an adjoining plantation; and 
grandmother hired her so she could be with Uncle William. No license was 
necessary when slaves married; but there was a big gathering at Aunt Violet’s 
house, which my mother attended; and the old Negro preacher told them to 
“pull togedder like good hosses!’’ So the ceremony was ended with the cus- 
tomary festivity. Uncle William was proud of his bride but was too timid to 
stay with her for awhile. 

Aunt Violet’s owners contended with grandmother about having their 
family physician in case Aunt Violet was taken sick while hired out. The 
wages had been agreed on, and grandmother insisted that her own family. physi- 


160 ‘Dobe PIGriipepDBARERS 


cian was just as good as the other one. It shows that the old time master 
and mistress had an economic interest in the physical well-being of the slave. 

Aunt Violet was a remarkable Negro. Black as coal, she had as white a 
heart as ever beat in a mother’s bosom. Her own mother was a strong, dig- 
nified character who had the respect of white people. Aunt Violet was intel- 
ligent, though she never learned to read or write. She had no chance. How she 
would have developed with a little education and training! 

She had a sense of justice equal to any woman’s; and she was discreet and 
trustworthy in very important matters. She was a fluent and sensible talker, and 
I have heard her and my mother in many an hour's companionship. She was a 
good woman before but a noble woman after her conversion. She seemed to 
have the gift of prayer and testimony; and her life corresponded to a living 
faith. As I recollect her now she was lacking in a sense of humor, so common 
with the Negro race. She was a pious mother and whipped her children severely; 
but she slaved to the last for every one of them. Tuberculosis made dread ravages 
among Aunt Violet’s children; and in due season she, too, folded her faithful 
hands in eternal rest. 

Many years ago Uncle William came back to the old neighborhood when 
his little grandchild died. He stopped by our house for dinner. Mother herself 
went out to serve him; he had been faithful to them in the long gone years. 
As he started away she put a piece of money in his hand, saying, ‘Take it, 
William, for the sake of the old times!’’ He thanked her, as he had thanked 
God for the good dinner provided; for Uncle William, too, was an humble dis- 
ciple of the Lord Christ. He spoke joyfully of his conversion; how the 
Lord drew him up out of self and sin just as though from the dark and damp 
cf a well, Uncle William said, to the sunlight and gladness of pardon and peace. 

His old eyes glanced with loving recollection over the cleared and cultivated 
fields around what once constituted the estate of his master. "I helped mite 
clear them woods away,’ he said in response to my question. ‘‘An’ I lifted 
logs tel I cud see stahs, I did!’’ he added with sad reminiscence of the early 
manhood now gone in age. 

He spoke of the privation of the present compared to the plenty and hap- 
piness of the old slave days. ‘‘Marse Jeff's garden’’ was an Eden in his 
memory. And as he arose to return to his hut and toil in Louisville, a vision 
of Heaven came to him—a vision of Father Abraham’s Bosom. 

“Hit’ll be all right up dah! he said, pointing starward. 
“Yes, Uncle William, and it will be all right down here, too some day,”’ 
I answered, the vision dimming my eyes with tears. 

He did not understand. But as the bent figure, and the face still wreathed 
in a smile, disappeared over the hill, walking as I had seen him when little Henry 
died, returning now to his long wait till ‘‘De good Lawd call,’’ I vowed a 
new devotion to the humble children of toil. 


GHAR TERE CALI 





BP 49 AG : 7 
<#tly Ol Rentucky Home” 


AVELOCK ELLIS truly says that the child’s supreme parent is 
the mother, and from the moment of conception to birth the nature 
and destiny of the child are determined by the forces that work 
through her. It was even so with Rachel and her son, Joseph. 

She was born in slave-times in the heart of Old Kentucky in the year 1840 and 
bore Joseph her son when she was a young girl of twenty. Hence she transmitted 
to him the epic soul of her race and people. 

Rachel's father was a freeman with a mixture of English and Indian blood. 
He was a small man with a weight of only a hundred and fifteen or twenty 
pounds. But Rachel’s mother was a large black Amazon type, weighing nearly 
two hundred and fifty and could spring upon a horse with ease. She was the 
mother of sixteen children and came from East Tennessee to Nelson County, 
Kentucky, with her husband in a horse and wagon far back in pioneer days. 
She was a woman of courage and initiative, while her husband was a timid man. 
They camped one night near a hill in Central Kentucky that was infested with 
robbers. She saw a hut in the distance and a light appeared for a moment and 
then went out. After a while a low growling sound was heard and a big black 
bear, apparently, passed by, pausing to sniff the air and take in the surroundings. 
The husband was nearly scared out of his wits and climbed the nearest tree; 
but the big brave wife seized the axe and made for the bear with the intention 
of splitting his head wide open. At her approach the bear turned and ran 
away into the woods, and a little later a light appeared again in the cabin 
window. The man and his wife then realized that the supposed bear was really 
a robber in a bearskin who had come to harm them but had been driven away 
by the courage of the woman. 

Rachel’s father became a locally famous herb doctor in Nelson County in 
his time and died leaving his widow with a large family to care for. They were 
free people but it became necessary now for the mother to bind her children out, 
and thus Rachel became a bond-woman until she was grown. She was sent to 
the house of a farmer and slave-owner near Bardstown and worked faithfully 
but she would not stand mistreatment or whipping. She was as fiery and full of 
nerve as her mother. ‘Thereupon, the new master said he would not have so 
spirited a slave around, lest she demoralize the discipline of the others; so he 
ordered Rachel to leave. She told the master that he had sent for her with a 
team of horses and escort and he could return her the same way or she would 
not go a step. This brought him to reason, and he sent her back home the 
right way. 

Rachel’s services were not long unsought, for we next find her at Federal 
Hill, “MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME,” near Bardstown. She milked the 
cows, kept house and nursed the children in the Rowan family. The story goes 


162 THE b GHis wb BARES 


that Mother Rowan, wife of Judge Rowan when he was the American minister 
to France, had purchased a lot of Parisian finery which she was afterward 
ashamed to wear among her more simple and unpretentious neighbors about 
Bardstown. It was one of Rachel’s regular duties to put these Parisian gowns 
out to sun and keep them in order. 

Rachel often heard the Rowans speak of the visit of Foster, the famous 
song writer, to Federal Hill and how he came to write “My Old Kentucky 
Home.’ She was too young to have known anything about it herself, but the 
family said that Foster was a man of melancholy sentiment and had a very 
tender heart for the pathos and tragedy of the old slave-times. He frequented 
the Negro camp meetings and studied them in their homes and about their 
work as they toiled and sang, and the melodies immortal came to him from 
the very soul of a race in bondage. For a while in recent years the ultra- 
cultured Negro circles in the large cities of the East agreed together to discourage 
the singing of these old folk songs in the public schools and social gatherings, 
but they soon realized that the sentiment of these old melodies inspired a power- 
ful sympathy and love of home between the races that will always exist, and 
the songs are more widely popular now than ever before. 

In due season Rachel created her own songs and stories which she chanted 
and told to her son Joseph. She was very fervent in her religious devotions and a 
very hard worker. She would sometimes wash nearly all night and then have 
periods of prayer and exaltation. Then again during the day she would draw 
from her bosom a favorite book and pause to read over the wash tub. She had 
a strong dramatic instinct and would frequently make up little plays of her own 
and represent each character vividly. 

Inheriting from her father the instinct to heal and nurse the sick, Rachel 
too, became widely known for the old fashioned herb remedies. She made her- 
self an authority on the subject by a close study of books and nature and by 
experience in caring for certain diseases. She only took a reasonable compensa- 
tion for her time and remedies and trouble for she was generous and good to all. 

In after years while living in Louisville she went to see the sick afar and 
near. Her professional service was that of mid-wife, and she at times had more 
success than the attending physician in saving the life of mother and child. A 
peculiarly pathetic incident occurred which her son Joseph told in after years. 
Mother Rachel herself had been ill with typhoid fever at one of the old res- 
idences in the city and was waited upon especially by a young colored girl, 
in whom she took an exceptionally keen interest, assuring her that if she was 
ever in trouble to come at once to Mother Rachel. 

Sometime afterward the young girl was led astray and ruined by a young 
man, who left her at the mercy of fate. She remained in the family where 
she was working until her condition was discovered and then she was discharged. 
Having nowhere to go, she remembered Mother Rachel’s promise and turned to 
her as a door of hope. When the child was born a neighborhood physician 
was called in to attend the case. At a very critical moment when the life of 
mother and child was in jeopardy Mother Rachel suggested something she had 
always done before, but the doctor said no, it was unnecessary. In consequence 
the young girl and her child died and Mother Rachel never ceased to reproach 
herself for not using her own judgment in spite of the doctor. The tragic 
death of the girl and her child so haunted her thoughts that many a night 


PROM, SERVILUDES” TOSERVIGE 163 


afterward she could see the girl and child appear plainly in the room. Joseph 
himself, though not the least superstitious, one night wide awake, witnessed the 
same appearance with his own eyes. ‘Thus as the years went on Mother Rachel's 
heart took in the suffering, afflicted and fallen all over the city, and her son 
inherited a double portion of her spirit. 


The following beautiful and touching account of how Foster's famous 
song, “My Old Kentucky Home’’ was written should be familiar to every 
lover of his native State. It is the classic story of the song. 

A young man and his sister were visiting their old friends, Judge Rowan’s 
family, who lived near Bardstown, Kentucky. With true Kentucky hospitality, 
he entertained his guests, showing them the various points of interest on his 
estate and throughout the surrounding country. The brother and sister were 
delighted with what they saw. The spell of the Kentucky fields was about them. 
They began to weave into their fancy, the beautiful thoughts that slowly crept 
into their minds. 

One beautiful morning, while the Negroes were at work in the corn fields 
and the sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, Stephen 
Collins Foster and his sister were seated upon a bench in front of the Rowan 
Homestead. 

High up in the top of a tree a mocking bird warbled its sweet notes. Over 
the hidden recesses of the bush, the thrush’s mellow tone could be heard. From 
where they sat the brother and sister could see in the distance St. Joseph’s College, 
one of Kentucky's famous institutions of learning. Small Negro children were 
playing not far away. 

Almost unconsciously, Foster began to write the words of a song that was 
going through his head. When he had finished it his sister took the paper from 
his hand and in a sweet mellow voice sang the first verse of the song that has 
since become famous. 


The sun shines bright on my Old Kentucky Home; 
"Tis summer the darkies are gay; 

The Corn Top’s ripe and the meadow’s in the bloom, 
While the birds make music all the day. 

The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, 
All merry, all happy, all bright, 

By-m by hard times comes a-knockin’ at the door— 
Then My Old Kentucky Home, good night. 


The Negroes had laid down their hoe and rake; the little tots had placed 
themselves behind the large sheltering trees, while the old black women were 
sweeping around the corner of the house. ‘The faithful old house dog never took 
his eyes off the young singers. Every thing was still, not even the leaves broke 
the wonderful silence. Again the brother and sister took hold of the 
remaining stanzas and sang in sweet accents: 


164 THE LIGHT BEARERS 


They hunt no more for the ‘possum and the coon, 
On the meadow, the hill, and the shore; 
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, 
On the bench by the old cabin door. 

The day goes by like a shadow o’er the heart, 
With sorrow where all was delight; 

The time has come when the darkies have to part, 
Then my Old Kentucky. home, good night. 


The head must bow and the back will have to bend 
Wherever the darkies may go. 
A few more days and the trouble all will end, 
In the fields where the sugar cane grow. 
A few more days to tote the weary load— 
No matter it never will be light; 
A few more days till we totter on the road, 
Then my Old Kentucky home, good night! 


As the song was finished tears flowed down the old Negro cheeks. The 
children crept from their hiding places behind the trees, their faces wreathed in 
smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their homes in the thicket, 
while the old dog still lay basking in the sun. 


GEA PTE Rexx TV. 





o 


Che Stary of a Slave C 


fris Ss 


T was in the month of February, 1861. The storm of Civil War 
was coming, but the Emancipation Proclamation had not been 
written or signed by Abraham Lincoln. There still remained one 
year of bondage for the slave of the South. But the mighty 

Mother of men, America, was nearing the birthtime of a new age in the free- 
dom of man. Far down among the hills of Central Kentucky, the section of 
country where Abraham Lincoln was born, there was a young slave woman who 
had been brought up by a very devout Catholic family. She was now a servant 
in the family of Judge Rowan, who lived at ‘‘Federal Hill’’ the old farmhouse 
near Bardstown where ‘“‘My Old Kentucky Home’’ was written. Her young 
child, for the years of its infancy, was cradled in the sentiment of the Foster 
songs. The mother was a woman of remarkable imagination, humor and 
sympathy. She understood children by instinct and could tell stories to them by 
the hour. 

She taught herself to read and knew lots about human nature. She was a 
woman of moods and at times very dramatic. She would pray aloud at night 
in the old-fashioned way; but she taught her son the religion of industry, honesty 
and self-improvement. She seemed to have the dream of his future service to his 
people. She came to Louisville to work when her child was very small. Like all 
great mothers, she was not afraid of work. The Gospels say that it is woe to 
become a mother when wars and revolutions are stirring the world; but in such 
seasons of history remarkable men and women are born. Booker T. Washington 
was born at such a period, and Abraham Lincoln said in his great Gettysburg 
address above the graves of the martyred dead below, that America was again 
in the birth throes of a new freedom. It was even so, and naturally the slave 
race was expected to generate great souls to lead it on to liberty and progress. 

Old Kentucky, the Mother State of Abraham Lincoln, has also been the 
Mother State for poets, teachers and leaders of the African race in America. The 
same might be said of Old Virginia where Booker T. Washington was born. But 
Paul Lawrence Dunbar’s mother was once a slave in Old Kentucky. She loved 
the folk song and story of her people, and from her Paul Lawrence inherited his 
wonderful gift of poetry and imagination. It is said that she used to sit on the 
door-step of the old home in the Blue-grass country at twilight and murmur the 
melodies of her race as lullaby songs. 

Dunbar was an ordinary looking man until you saw his eyes and heard his 
voice. Then he enchanted you with the witchery and romance of melody. 
“When Malindy Sings’’ was written of his own mother. Poor Dunbar spent 
the years of early manhood struggling against poverty and tuberculosis, and final- 
ly died of the disease from which so many of his race have suffered since they 
were taken from the open air of the farm country and became toilers in the cities. 


166 WERE ACS ME Seley aelees: 


Dunbar’s mother is still living at a good age, full of the poetry and romance of 
the past. 

Now the mother of the Slave Child that we mentioned a little while ago 
was very fond of the Bible and told the story of Joseph and his Brethren to all 
the children of the Old Kentucky Home. Joseph was a dreamer and he was sold 
into slavery and became a great man in Egypt. So the slave mother named her 
child Joseph and reared him in the same hope of service to her people. The 
Bible stories, especially of Joseph, molded his character and decided his career. 
He learned to read when he was four or five and he was taught many things 
when he first went to school. 





PROE, JOSHPH Ss. 2coTrEeR 


Representing the first generation of education, progress and culture. 
Possessing a rare poetic genius and exquisite human sympathy he became 
more than a manual laborer and rose to distinction as a teacher of Negro 
youth. Few men have ever made finer use of the imagination and humor 
in folk love and the playtime of childhood. Religion and fraternity have 
also inspired Prof. Cotter to a noble race leadership; and he has the universal 
confidence and regard of white people. He won his place in the group of 
Kentucky poets twenty-five years ago, and is today known widely as the 
originator of “The Story Hour” for children in the schools and public 
libraries of America. Prof. Cotter has written a great book on his mother; 
and he lost a son, one of the most gifted young poets of his generation, 


PROV Ero rR Li Dime | Om SERY ICE 167 


But, like Booker Washington, little Joseph learned that his race could only 
rise through it’s own heroic efforts to reach manhood and womanhood. It was 
necessary for him to stop school and go to work when he was yet not ten years 
of age; so he forgot his alphabet and lost all his learning in the hard days of 
struggle and reconstruction during and following the Civil War. He grew up in 
Louisville and labored as a teamster on the leve, hauling and unloading cotton, 
tobacco, corn and whiskey until he was twenty-one years old. Then his old 
longing for an education came back and he worked all day and attended night 
school in the city, taught by men and women who were helping the poor and 
ignorant to better their lot in life. 

Thus did young Joseph secure his first license to teach, and he became a 
man of mind, and heart, and soul, as well as a man of muscle and strength. 
These energies, we are told in the Scriptures, must be dedicated to the love of 
God and the service of our fellowmen; and young Joseph so consecrated his life. 
One day he saw a vision of his race from the long ages in Africa, through 
slavery and on into the Land of Promise. This vision’ grew into song and 
poured itself out in passionate measure. [The young poet took his verses to his 
teacher and the wise man was proud of the boy. ‘Then he showed them to his 
mother and she rejoiced because she knew, within her heart, that the dream 
would come true. 


GEAR TE Rex Aen) 


Area of Freedom 





OSEPH, the Slave Child, when he had grown to manhood and be- 

came a great leader among his people in education and progress, said: 

‘‘My mother was a bond-woman who was liberated.’ He showed 

the torn and yellow scrip of his mother’s freedom proudly, for sweet 

indeed is the birthright and heritage of human liberty. And Joseph’s mother was 
a great woman if ever there was one. 

‘I will tell you the story of the Underground Railroad and the Feather Bed,” 
said Joseph to his friend and fellow-poet, one day in Louisville, their mutual 
home city. 

“It was at the beginning of the Civil War,’’ said Joseph. “‘My mother was 
hired to a colored man and his wife in the alley between Fourth and Fifth and 
Broadway and York, where the gymnasium of the Baptist Theological Seminary 
now stands. This man owned a team, a stable, some hogs and bee-hives. There 
was a large pile of truck thrown out of the stable to the rear. 

“One night there came to them a slave woman who wanted to go to Canada 
by the underground railway. They felt for her deeply, and willingly assisted in 
the dangerous venture. She had brought to them by night a trunk, a feather bed, 
a basket, a piece of zinc and a quilt. The feather bed and quilt were used by 
the colored man and his wife. My mother sat in a chair all winter and watched 
over me, a child in her arms, for we had no bed to sleep in and just enough 
clothes to keep us warm. Surely they were anxious days and nights for our 
race and people. 

“The slave woman was caught. She told where the things were. The 
officers came and went back to her mistress to get a good description of the 
things the slave woman had. It was the moment to act. The colored man and 
his wife lost their nerve, so my mother came to the front immediately. The 
feather bed and quilt were thrown out of a window and the trunk hastily car- 
ried to the same spot. The hogs had made a hole in the dump heap of the stable, 
so the trunk was put there and covered up. The quilt and feather bed were put 
under the bee-hives and covered with bushes. The basket was coal-oiled and 
burned and the zinc thrown amid some rubbish nearby. So there was no visi- 
ble evidence against the slave woman when the officers returned. Thus did my 
mother save the colored man and his wife and herself from going to jail. 

“The next spring the colored man’s hogs died and he thought it was a 
curse sent by the Almighty for not getting the slave woman off to Canada. My 
mother took the dead hogs for her pay. She rendered them up and made a lot 
of old fashioned soap which she sold to rich white families. She then bought a 
feather bed and quilt which we used the next winter. So this was the first and 


last attempt of my mother and the colored family to run an underground rail- 
road station.”’ 


PROM@= SERA FRUDES LOS SERVICE 169 


A STORY OF LITTLE AFRICA 


, 


“In my seventeenth year,’ said Joseph, “‘I decided to buy a horse and 
wagon during the brickyard season for use the next winter, of a man by the 
name of Seigel, for whom I worked. He offered me a blind horse for twenty- 
eight dollars. I was to pay a small sum each week from my wages, which were 
fourvand.a shalt. 

“T saw the horse each day at work. It was an inspiration to me. After 
each payment I rejoiced that I owned more and more of the horse. Buying this 
horse gave me a standing among the men and boys. My neighbor, a colored man, 
told me that if I would help him cultivate eight acres of ground, where ‘Little 
Africa’ now stands, he would give me feed enough for my horse the next winter. 

“T put in all my spare time helping him with four acres of oats and four 
acres of corn. We gathered in the crop. Winter came on. I had paid for the 
horse and bought a wagon and harness. About Christmas time the colored man 
said to me, ‘Jose, has you ever heard that one hundred ears of corn makes a 
bushel?’ 

“TI replied that I had so heard. ‘Then he said, “There is the feed what | 
promised you for the hoss.’ He then counted out one hundred nubbins and threw 
them on the ground. ‘That was all the pay I received for helping to cultivate 
eight acres of ground in ‘Little Africa!’ ”’ 


THE YOUNG BRICKMAKER 


“T worked from my eighteenth year in the old fashioned brick-yards about 
Louisville,’’ said Joseph. ‘“‘I turned up bricks doubly and singly; turned clay, 
tempered mud, wheeled mud and bricks, moulded bricks, and all the other work 
about a brick yard except paying off the hands out of my own pocket, something 
1 desired very much to do. 

“But I had trouble with the boys, both white and colored. A colored boy 
took my food for a whole day and beat me for speaking about it. I was then 
twelve years old. How could I outwit him? He was too big for me to fight. 
The white boys chased me for the fun of seeing me run. How could I outwit 
them? 

“One day a crowd gave chase. I ran awhile. Then I thought me of 
marbles in my pocket. When the crowd neared me [I threw some marbles into 
it. This I continued to do until I was safe. 

“But how was I to prevent the imposition and rowdyism of the crowd from 
recurring? After the day’s work the men, white and black, sat around in a 
circle and told tales. Now boys had to be seen and not heard. Here was my 
chance. I sat off at a distance and told stories to the other boys. The men 
heard them laughing and came over to listen. They told me to go on and 
laughed with the boys. 

“After this I was story-teller and had a hearing from both men and boys. 
From that time on I made my way. I won the men through the boys and the 
boys through the men. It is marvelous, the magic of a story on the human 


imagination.” 


CHAP EERE ACS AN! 


Che 


a 





Uoung Aight 





Y FIRST school was at Cloverport, Kentucky, said Joseph. ‘I lived 
in a little house next to the Presbyterian Church.”’ “The same 
town and church where I delivered my trial sermon and was licensed 
to preach,’’ we exclaimed. 

“Quite a coincidence,’’ answered Joseph. ‘‘Well, I remember so clearly the 
beautiful day of my first school. I saw a wedding and heard the bells ringing. 
The bride lived in Cloverport, and the groom in another town. One year after- 
wards the bride was dead and I saw her husband with a babe in his arms follow- 
ing after at her funeral. It was very sad.” 

“What social conditions did you find there?’’ we asked. 

“T found typical conditions,’ answered Joseph. ‘Just what you would 
expect in a little river town. The school had been taught by Marshall W. Tay- 
lor, who collected Negro Melodies, and also by Bishop Walters, one of the noted 
colored preachers. 

“TIT went down on a steamboat from Louisville. It was the first time I had 
ever been away from home and mother. It nearly killed me. I stood the tor- 
ture of homesickness until Christmas and then I had to come back for a visit. 
My home attachments are truly Kentuckian. 

“Well, school teaching gave me the first leisure time I ever had in my life. 
I worked five days in the week and then had a Saturday holiday. I learned to 
use it as a student should and have profited immensely by it. 

“T must tell you about the teacher's examination. You know I had to be 
examined for teacher's license at Hardinsburg, the countyseat. I rode over there 
on horse-back, and the children hailed me as I went by, saying, ‘Is you the new 
teacher? Is you goin’ to whup us?’ ‘This embarrased me greatly and I made no 
reply. 

“You see there was a one-legged colored man who had taught school all 
over Breckinridge County. He was a great whipper, like old teacher Ball in the 
‘Hoosier School-Boy.’ The children stood in terror of him and naturally won- 
dered what policy I would pursue. Well, we took our examination together. We 
were examined for the first time in physiology. My companion at least had 
never heard of the subject before. So he said, ‘What's this here the white man 
done give us now?’ 

There was a question about how many bones in the human arm. Well, I 
was up a tree, but I counted my bones by feeling and guessing. I passed with 
some credit and got my license. The man who examined me afterward became 
a prominent attorney in Louisville and was always my friend. 

“I began teaching where children, boys and girls, had run wild. They had 
even driven out the teacher on several occasions. One boy had a razor and tried 
to cut the teacher's throat. Well, I had to whip him. He went crazy and in 


FROM SERVITUDE: TO “SERVICE 171 


after years was a jail-bird in Louisville. He was very rough and threw rocks at 
some lawyers passing along. I got a bunch of switches and applied plenty of 
muscular Christianity to the youngsters until they were subdued.” 

“Did you succeed finally in rising superior to mere physical force?’’ we 
asked eagerly. 

“Yes, gradually,’’ answered Joseph. ‘I was stout enough to clean out the 
whole school, for that matter, and I was not afraid of any of them physically. 
But temperamentally I was as timid as a rabbit. [ could not face the school 
without embarassment. In those days I could not face a crowd in church. I 
could not eat before people. It took my appetite. And I could not speak or 
read with any success even before ignorant children. 

“But I mastered this timidity in an amusing way. I had to meet another 
colored man in debate. I worked hard at night preparing. [he church was the 
school-house down there and the debate was held in the same place. My op- 
ponent was a smooth talker and I perspired profusely in nervous anticipation. 
He talked till the lights began to go out. “That was my salvation. I arose in 
the dim shadow of darkness and made such a creditable reply that I won standing 
in the town.” 

‘How did you finally conquer self-consciousness?’” we inquired much in- 
terested. 

“By telling stories to the children,’’ answered Joseph. ‘“That art has been 
my salvation in many tight places. Once in my recollection I was honored by a 
place as poet upon the program and when my turn came I was simply paralyzed 
upon the platform. They had to excuse me. But there is a wonderful magic in 
story-telling. Back in my brick-yard experience I even turned the minds of the 
men and boys from gambling by holding them spell-bound or making them 
laugh at my stories. The gambling was awful, too. Those fellows craved ex- 
citement and threw their wages away as fast as they were paid off. My mother’s 
strict religious training of me prevented the habit taking hold on me. We both 
regarded that as dishonest money. But of course the men and boys cared nothing 
for such scruples, and so | outwitted them again by the world-old magic of ‘once 
upon a time!’ ”’ 

“Isn't it much the same with the juvenile delinquency and crime among your 
people as it is with the whites?’’ we asked. 

“Certainly,’’ answered Joseph. ‘‘Mainly a problem of misdirected boyish 
energy in a vicious environment. Leisure time unoccupied and so misspent in a 
lawless fashion. The game and play-ground, the folk-dance and the folk-story 
have largely solved the problem in our school world.” 

‘And you were personally fortunate in marriage and home life, I presume?’’ 
we asked, filled with admiration of the noble Light-Bearer and Poet of the 
Negro Race. 

““Yes,’’ answered Joseph. ‘‘You can say that I was fortunate in both. My 
wife’s father was a steward. He lived in Magazine street. He had some means 
and held his head higher and prouder than the poor and shiftless. He never went 
on their side of the street at all. My wife’s mother had a fine domestic training. 
My wife had a fine schooling herself and was a teacher for fifteen years. She is 
wholly practical and serious-minded. I never joke with her. I always gave her 
my salary at the end of the month and she made good use of it. I had never 


jg 2 THE LIGH DE SBEARERS 


known a real home till I married. A home is a place to go when your work is 
done. There you can find food and comfort and rest. A virtuous companion, 
true to your interests and in full sympathy with your work and thought is the 
soul of the home. When she becomes wife and mother you have done your duty 
to God and man and reap the reward of human happiness.”’ 


CHAPTER XXXVII 





N the town of Lexington, Virginia, where Stonewall Jackson’s slave- 

time Sunday-school for Negro children made such a marked im- 

pression, there lived an attractive and intelligent young colored per- 

son who married a young Negro barber. This fine young woman 

and equally fine young man were the father and mother of William the Shepherd. 

Mother Shepherd was a free woman even in the slave days. She was a splen- 
did cook and had charge of the household in the family where she lived. Her 
husband was the best barber for white folks in the town where they lived. 

Mother Shepherd was converted in the family where she worked and be- 
came a member of the old Presbyterian Church in Lexington and Staunton dur- 
ing a residence in each place. She was a very gentle young woman and was always 
doing something for others, and the white ladies were devoted to her. She was a 
woman of fine judgment and was regarded with high respect by everyone. 

Her little son William was born during the last days of slavery while his 
parents were living at Waynesboro, Va. ‘There was also a sister to whom Wil- 
liam was very devoted. The mother taught them the little prayer, ““Now I lay 
me down to sleep’’ while they were yet very small, and then of evenings, when 
her day’s work was done, the father and mother would sit by the light of the 
open wood fire-place and tell the children folk tales and Bible stories before going 
to bed. 

During the War days the little family suffered much hardship. They were 
very thankful to get ash cake and pones of cornbread with a little molasses for 
breakfast and supper, and greens, corn bread and a little fat meat occasionally for 
dinner. [hey were such useful and unselfish people that the white folks generally 
saw that they were not neglected. After the Civil War Mother Shepherd had a 
sister who was the wealthiest colored woman in the Valley of Virginia. She and 
her husband owned two large brick houses, a village tavern and other property. 
Her husband even had good race horses. They never gave any heed to good 
Mother Shepherd and her little family. Indeed, they dared nothing for God and 
his humble lowly, but spent everything on their own selfish pride and pleasure. 
In time the horses went, then the bar room and brick houses, until finally they 
themselves died poor and alone. 

The circumstance made a deep impression upon little William. He first went 
to the colored Sunday-school and was converted and joined the white Presbyterian 
Church, as all colored people did in those days. He was about twelve years old 
then. One day a good white lady in Waynesboro, having carefully noted this 
bright little colored boy, called him to her door when he was playing in the mud 
after a rain. 

“William,’’ she said, “J am praying that God will send you as a Missionary 


, 


to Africa to your own people.’ 


174 HE LIGHTS BEARERS 


William had never heard of Africa, but he thanked her and the suggestion 
took root in his young heart and he definitely formed his ideal that day to go 
as a Light-Bearer and Shepherd to his people in the Dark Continent. 

The dying echoes of the Civil War, which set his people free in America, 
yet rang in the soul of the growing boy. He remembered a brave ride of his 
own mother on horseback to perform some signal and heroic service. Then, too, 
he watched the weeping friends and relatives from the North and South coming 
to the Soldiers’ Cemetery near the recent battlefields in search of the graves of 


their fallen dead. 





Rev. and Mrs. William H. Sheppard, noted Missionaries 
of the Southern Presbyterian Church, now for a number 
of years located in ‘Mission work for their race and people 
with Rev. John Little in Louisville. Dr. Sheppard is the 
original of ‘‘William the Shepherd” in our life story here, 


This was the object lesson from a line in ‘‘The Battle Hymn of the Re- 
public’ that since Jesus died to make men holy, so these brave heroes died to 
make men free. And the pathway to that freedom, though open now before him, 
was rough and full of peril and hardship. The boy William and his sister at- 
tended school in a little log Methodist meeting house for Negroes. There was 
very little wood to be had, and they were so cold during the winter months as 
they trudged through the snow that a kind old blacksmith along the way warmed 
their freezing hands and feet at his bellows. In school the whip was wielded un- 
mercifully and the instruction was poor at best. 

William soon left this makeshift of a school and worked for a dentist and 
his wife in Staunton. The wife took a deep interest in his studies and gave him 
Robinson Crusoe to read. This classic of adventure made such a lasting im- 
pression upon the boy’s mind that he treasured the story next to his Bible. Years 


BO ViaEoe RV LODE RS TOS SERVICE 175 


afterward in the heart of Africa he saved a native from starvation one Friday, and 
humorously gave him the name of Robinson Crusoe’s man. 


It is a peculiar providence of history that near the very spot where the first 
ship-load of Negro slaves were landed and sold to the Virginia planters in 1610, 
there, generations afterward, the first great step from servitude to service would be 
taken by the newly liberated black people. ‘The little town of Hampton is sit- 
uated on a little creek which flows into Hampton Roads at the mouth of the 
Chesapeake Bay. The invaders of 1812 left the village desolate, and the Civil 
War swept over it with even more fearful havoc, leaving ruined residences where 
the wealthy white people summered in the olden days. And as the wartide raged 
in fury great throngs of recently emancipated Negroes crowded into the vicinity, 
seeking the shelter of Fortress Monroe and the nearby camps of the Union Armies. 
A writer has said that they came like the Israelites of old running toward the 
Cities of Refuge to excape the avengers of blood. They built themselves rude 
cabins of split logs and this section was called Slabtown. They lived on the 
ragged edge of starvation until the Federal authorities gave them temporary as- 
sistance. Then the American Missionary Society of the Northern States took 
up the matter and sent down the Rev. C. L. Lockwood to minister among them. 


Mr. Lockwood first organized them into Sunday-schools and Church So- 
cieties and then taught them the religion of industry and social order. He found 
them remarkably free from intemperance and eager to learn to read and write and 
cipher. The Negroes crowded into these newly opened schools, and there was a 
Mrs. Peaks, a free colored woman, who first taught her people here and died de- 
votedly under the heavy burden she bore, almost alone. There were sixteen 
hundred pupils in a very short time, and the Quakers as well as the American 
Missionary Society sent teachers among them with wonderful results. 


In due season the work became so well established that General Armstrong, 
whose father was a faithful Missionary to the Sandwich Islands for nearly forty 
years, took charge of it. This noted Missionary was such a believer in indus- 
trial education and vocational training that he organized all his mission schools 
on a manual labor basis. His son, General Armstrong, who had commanded 
thousands of Negro soldiers in the Union Army, adopted the same plan as his 
father for lifting the liberated slaves from helpless dependency to self-reliance and 
self-support. Thus came into existence the first great institute for the Negro 
race in America. 


It was to this famous school that. young William the Shepherd went to 
prepare himself for his future life work. He had struggled along with manual 
labor by day and some schooling by night until he was ready for this long 
coveted opportunity. General Armstrong took a great liking to the lad, and 
gave him every opportunity and encouragement. And while he was busy learn- 
ing the lessons of head and hand, young William did not lose sight of the heart 
culture or religious service. Indeed, one Sunday when his teacher called for 
volunteers to go with him to Slabtown for a missionary meeting, young William 
offered himself and carried the books, earnestly wishing that he, too, could tell 
the Cospel story to the lost and ignorant of his own race at home. He was 
touched with the sight of the poverty he saw, and appealed to the white 
people to give him bundles of clothing and other comforts for the needy and 


176 THE, LIGHT SBEARERS 


sick at Slabtown. Thereby he won the gratitude of many an humble soul 
that otherwise would have suffered. 

He mingled with equal freedom among the hundreds of Indians being 
educated at Hampton, learning their native dialect and winning their good will, 
so that they delighted to impart to him the knowledge of many things which 
were of service when he found himself alone with the savage tribes of Africa. 
So well did he learn the Indian words that years afterwards when he returned 
to America and told his story at Hampton, he used again for a moment or two 
the Indian tongue, and the Red Men sent up a shout of approval and pleasure. 
Thus, step by step, did William, the Shepherd, rise from poverty and obscurity 
until he was a Light-Bearer of the Gospel, following in the footsteps of David 
Livingstone himself. 


GCHAR TEREXX XV LI 


a od FF 
- 


A Home Missionary to Little Africa 


HEN the Civil War closed in Alabama there was a noble Presbyterian 
minister. the Rev. Dr. Stillman, who determined to accept th issues 
of Emancipation and help prepare the Negro race for its new-found 
freedom. From a genuinely Christian interest in the welfare and 

future of the Negro people Dr. Stillman began his educational work among them 
in an old slave cabin, with a dry-goods box for a desk, a few chairs, and a 
class of Negro young men eager to prepare themselves to teach among their peo- 
ple. This work in due season became a Presbyterian Theological Seminary for 
colored men; and ministers of all denominations received thorough instruction and 
training to go as pastors to destitute places. It was here that William the Shep- 
herd was sent by the white session of his home church in Virginia when he put 
himself under their care as a candidate for the Presbyterian ministry. 

Dr. Stillman was the Presbyterian pastor for many years in the town where 
this memorable movement began. One of his leading elders was a retired physi- 
cian who was now a banker—Dr. Little by name, a man of great intelligence and 
Christian devotion to the betterment of humanity. He had once served for years 
as physician at the State hospital for insane, and he took a deep interest now in 
the preparation of the Negro people for their new citizenship. The Southern 
Presbyterian Assembly appointed a Committee on Colored Evangelization, and Dr. 
Little was made treasurer because he would more likely find funds for this mis- 
sionary enterprise. The funds, however, were exceedingly scarce. But God raised 
up in the family of this same physician the very young man he wanted to be- 
come his Home Missionary to Little Africa. 

John Little, the son of this consecrated banker-physician, was a boy whose 
heart God had touched. His first social and spiritual sympathy for the Negro 
race was awakened by a colored boy, Fred, who came to work in Dr. Little’s 
family. Fred was about twelve or fourteen years old and made himself useful get- 
ting coal, splitting kindling, and doing odd jobs about the house. Mrs. Dr. Little 
was an invalid, not able to walk but little. So Fred drove her around and at- 
tended to the horse. All the family were very fond of Fred because he was so 
straight and honest and kind. He grew up in the Little family until he was 
eighteen or nineteen years old. 

John Little gave his heart to God and united with the church about the 
time he was eighteen or twenty. Fred, who was about the same age, worked all 
week while the meeting was going on, but toward the Sabbath day he asked 
John how he felt when he got religion? John was sensitive on the subject and 
evaded the question. Fred was under conviction himself and was seeking the 
light: so on Sunday when John was received into the Church Fred asked him a 
second time how he felt when he got religion. Again John evaded the question 
and gave Fred no satisfaction whatever. Fred said no more after that. 


178 LHES EI GH ES BEARERS 


John soon became active in Christian service about town. He went to the 
poor farm and conducted Sunday meetings for the inmates. He was the superin- 
tendent of a Sunday-school for white factory workers, and as president of the 
Christian Endeavor Society he pushed forward much good work among the poor. 

Fred came home one day and said he wanted to leave the Little family and 
go to Birmingham to work in the coal mines. This was painful news to the 
household, but they did not feel it fair to dissuade Fred when he wanted to try 
his wings in the outside world. Another boy took Fred’s place and unhitched 
the horse. One night he told John that Fred was home again with lung trouble, 
spitting blood. John was cut to the heart as with a whip or knife. He had 
never spoken to Fred on the subject of religion and this worried John day and 
night. 

“T did not know exactly what to do,” said John Little himself years after- 
ward as he related the story. ‘“‘I prayed for Fred; but I suppose I should have 
sent a physician out to see him that same night. But I did do so Sunday and 
tcld him to save Fred’s life at any cost. ‘You just give Fred anything he needs 
and I'll see to the bill, doctor,’ said I. He afterward reported that Fred was doing 
very well. 

“Fred was a large, tall young man but he moved like an old man when we 
got down on our knees to pray when I called on him. He was very weak and 
had a hard fight to get well. But he got out again and came to our house to 
work for a while. He insisted on paying back every cent of money we had 
spent on him for his illness. He was honest and straight to the very heart. I 
shall never forget Fred because through him I first discovered the needs and 
possibilities of his race right here in our midst at home. It was then I decided 
to study for the ministry and came to the Louisville Presbyterian Seminary. Fred 
got a good job with the railroad and succeeded as he deserved. He always 
called to see me when we were back at the old home town.”’ 

“How did the vision of this great industrial and social settlement work 
among the Negroes come to you?’’ we asked Mr. Little, eager for the life story 
always. 

“Well, even during my Seminary studies I said often that it was incon- 
sistent to leave the Negro out of any Christian program: for how could we send 
missionaries to far-off China and India and Africa and ignore the same flesh 
and blood right at our own door? My room-mate and I were digging away at 
Greek and Hebrew but my heart was working out a plan to uplift the neglected 
and forgotten Negroes all around us. I settled down to my work like an old 
stager, and the boys at the Seminary chided me about it. 

“But I went home for my summer vacation and then resumed these same 
activities among the poor and lowly that had given me so much happiness before. 
I was merely finding myself. That second year we had a meeting at the Seminary 
for home mission work among the Negroes of Louisville. A committee was 
appointed but the movement was tabled for a month. Then my cousin, Dan 
Little, pushed it. I promised to help in a Negro Sunday-school work. The 
committee got busy and found a building on Preston street where nothing what- 
ever in the line of uplift work was being done. 

“My cousin Dan got the house and started the work. The first Sunday 
there were twenty-three children. I taught the little tots. Not one of them 


FROM SERVITUDE TO SERVICE Ag 


had ever heard the story of Jesus. Our lesson ‘as from Isaiah, 65th Chapter, 
where the peace of the nations is prophesied; the wolf and the lamb feeding 
together; and the serpent tamed so that it would not harm a child. ‘They shall 
not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord.’ 


“Little did I realize the significance of those beautiful words as applied to 
the very work we were doing to abolish animosities and hatreds of race for race 
and people for people right in our own borders. JI never saw children so 
ignorant, yet those same neglected youngsters were the future useful citizens or 
certain criminals of the community. I had a time teaching them. I remained 
at home from the white church the next Sunday to prepare myself to meet 
those little Negroes. My Greek and Hebrew did not do me much good on 
that job. 


“I got a book on child pedagogy called ‘Points of Contact,’ from the 
known to the unknown. I went back to the beginning. My very soul was in 
a sweat over that problem. I was determined to make the afternoon lesson 
interesting or die in the attempt. 


“It was in the middle of winter, along about February. I saw the coal 
bucket in my room and an idea came to me. I took a lump of coal and wrapped 
it nicely in paper. I knew this would arouse their curiosity. Then I got a 
bottle and filled it with water. I went down into the yard and dug a little 
earth and scratched up some dead grass from under the snow. ‘These I wrapped 
as carefully as the others. You see our lesson was on the creation and [I was 
ready. 


“Well those little Negroes were all alive with excitement when they saw 
the box; and I was so nervous, too, that I broke my water bottle the first 
thing. But we had a great time that Sunday and I had no trouble afterward. 
The next Sunday the lesson was about the Sun, Moon and Stars and I drew col- 
ored pictures for them on papers. It was wonderful to see how they responded. 
We remade and adapted our lessons for them from that time with perfect success.”’ 


- “That is the way all great work begins and grows,’ we exclaimed with 
enthusiasm; ‘‘right down in the details.” 


““Yes,’’ answered John Little, the home missionary to the “Little Africa’’ 
of Louisville, “the work grew rapidly. By May we had a big Sunday-school 
with my cousin Dan at the head of it. The Synod gave us a small appropria- 
tion and we engaged new teachers and had assistants out looking up new pupils. 
We gave one whole afternoon a week to visiting among the colored people of 
the community. We took the houses one by one and left our literature. My 
class had grown until we had to rent two new rooms. 

“One Sunday a Negro boy from Smoketown came to service and invited 
us over there. We had our hands full as it was; so he importuned us Sunday 
after Sunday until I began to really think of: it. My cousin Dan could not 
stay that summer to work with us, so I agreed to stay myself, if Dan would 
raise the money. Dan said he would canvass one of the wealthy Presbyterian 
Churches for the needed funds and secured enough to go on safely. We then 
looked over Smoketown together and discovered a vacant house with a bookcase 
in it. This was the colored library. We saw the woman owner and rented it 
for Sunday afternoons and Wednesday nights. 


180 rity SIGHT BEARERS 


“We reported to the Seminary and opened our second Sunday-school at 
once. The money was raised for us in one day and we began the next Sunday. 
We had twenty-four chairs and thirty-five children and had to use boards for 
seats. It has been that way ever since—more children than we can possibly 
accommodate. 

“I took charge of both schools that summer myself and lived on faith in 
the work. I saw one of our leading ministers and he had the work put under 
the care of the Presbytery, but did not guarantee us anything. There was a 
Committee but no provision for support. I had the authority but the schools 
had no cash in hand. Indeed, I had just fifteen dollars for three months, and if 
that wasn’t living on faith in the work, I don’t know what faith is. 

“At this juncture a call came for me from a Church in the South that 
promised relief and comfort from this seemingly thankless task of Negro uplift, 
I weakened for a little while. Then my leading minister friend advised me 
to stay on the job right there at home. He promised that he would make a 
littie journey with me to all the Churches.on Sunday evenings, where he would . 
preach and then let me tell my own story and ask for support in the work. 
The plan succeeded admirably and I became God’s permanent Home Missionary 
tothe Little Africa’ of “Louisville. ; 


Ashes Bie 2.O,O.4b,4 


Chie Shepherd ant Bs leamle 


N the winter of 1916-17 when we were Chaplain of the Indiana 
Reformatory in Jeffersonville, about the time of Lincoln’s birthday, 
we arranged with William the Shepherd to visit the Reformatory 
and tell the story of the mission to the Dark Continent to the sev- 

eral hundred colored inmates. This was an event of extraordinary interest to the 
boys, as it was the first time in a long while that a minister of their own race 
had come to speak to them within the walls. William the Shepherd was accom- 
panied by his wife, who shared with him the perils and hardships of the African 
journey. She was a wonderfully sweet singer, and the Gospel hymns: that day 
were a rare treat indeed. The colored chorus gave selections of their own 
also, and the program was splendid. 

The noted Missionary told how he had cherished his ideal from early boy- 
hood to carry the light of the Gospel message to the very heart of Africa. 
Finally the Board of Foreign Missions accepted his services, and together with 
Rev. Samuel N. Lapsley, a devoted young volunteer missionary from Alabama, 
the son of a distinguished judge, the great journey was at last begun, ‘The 
mother of young Lapsley saw them off at New York and her last injunction 
was, “Shepherd, take care of Sam.’’ He assured her that he would; and then 
arose one of those strong friendships between the two young men that only the 
annals of the Old South itself can parallel. 

They went by way of London and followed in the ocean path of Liv- 
ingston and Stanley, finally landing at the mouth of the Congo, where they 
were in imminent danger from the man-eating sharks so numerous there. They 
noted, too, the fact of the terrible African fevers, and the many forms of death 
they would have to face. Nevertheless, with undaunted souls they struck out for 
the heart of the Dark Continent. They penetrated twelve hundred miles from 
the coast and eight hundred miles from the nearest foreign settlement. Upon the 
river banks they disembarked and bade farewell to their conductors who promised 
to return in nine months. 

Scarcely had their guides departed down the stream when great hordes of 
hostile natives rushed upon them from every hidden point in the forest and 
jungle. William the Shepherd started to fire upon them but his companion 
Lapsley forbade. Instead, they chanced to spy a hippopotamus in the river, 
which Shepherd easily shot, and with a hospitable smile bade the savage welcome 
to share the meal with him. ‘This clever ruse succeeded and the savages fell 
upon the hippopotomus and made short work of him. Then they took the 
two missionaries to their village to spend the night. 

Words could never tell the terror of that night in the wilds. They were 
overawed by their own daring and fearful of the morning light and new 
perils to encounter. They wept like children, homesick, heartsick and human 


182 HEI Ghee BEARERS 


as the most common mortals imaginable. But at dawn they heard a rooster 
crowing and it soothed them with the solace of the familiar and homelike. 

“That was a language we colored men can all understand—the crowing of 
a cock!’’ said the great missionary smiling, and the boys burst into a great roar 
of laughter. 

He then related many incidents and superstitions in their contact with the 
natives. An alphabet and written language were next put together by signs and 
objects and questions, and in a very few months they were able to make them- 
selves understood in the native tongue. After winning the love of the natives 
and seeing the change to civilization near at hand, Lapsley was called to the 
coast by the Governor, and there, taken suddenly ill with an African fever, he 
expired. He was known among the natives as the Pathfinder and when the 
news of his death came back to the interior a mournful lamentation was made 
for him. 

William the Shepherd, greatly distressed also, took counsel of the Most 
High and resolved to plunge deeper into the wilds of hostile territory, trusting 
his life and future into the hands of Providence alone. The story of that 
memorable journey to the gateway of a land where foreigners were slain at their 
first approach and how the Shepherd disarmed their relentless prejudice and hatred 
and penetrated to the very house and heart of the king, would thrill anyone 
to hear. Then on and on he went into the very hidden recesses of the 
Cannibal Country until he braved death in its most awful form, eaten by his 
fellow beings. Again God gave him entrance to the confidence of kings and 
natives and his name became a household word to thousands far and wide. ‘The 
kindly services in sickness and the many acts of kindness and good will per- 
formed toward the suffering everywhere endeared the Shepherd and his wife to 
these people like a father and mother. What wonder then that he returned 
to his native land twenty years afterward with the highest honors awarded a 
Missionary of the Cross! He risked his life time and again to stop the awful 
horrors of slavery and cannibalism and the rubber trade atrocities. And when 
he set foot on American soil at last he was privileged to address more white peo- © 
ple than any other man of his race except Booker T. Washington. 

When this wonderful address in the Reformatory Chapel was concluded, 
Samuel Hardin, a Negro prisoner with a tragic history, who had been unanimous- 
ly chosen to speak for his fellow inmates, stepped forward and ina beautifully 
touching way thanked the great missionary for his message and the good wife 
for her tender songs of comfort and cheer: “‘If every sentence I utter were a rose 
and every word a petal of thought; if thankfulness we all feel toward you could 
be conveyed in human language at all, it would be like the color and beauty and 
sweet perfume of the loveliest of flowers. This I offer you as the most fitting 
expression of our gratitude and affection.”’ 

From that day forward it was the one hope and purpose of Samuel Hardin’s 
life to be paroled to the great missionary and work at his side for the social and 
spiritual uplift of his race and people. As Chaplain, we made frequent visits to 
the home and congregation of William the Shepherd and told the story of Samuel 
Harding in such a manner that it won the sympathy and prayers of all who 


heard. The people themselves looked forward joyfully to the time of his libera- 
tion and companionship. 


EFROVESERY LEUDES TO. SER VICE 183 


William the Shepherd had been called to Louisville several years before to 
labor with Rev. John Little in his growing home mission and social work among 
the Negroes of the East End. This devoted service had attracted attention 
throughout the country. A student of the problem had written a book called, 
“The Negro Life in the South.’’ It was the text book that other students were 
waiting for. Industrial education at Hampton showed what the Negro could be 
taught in vocational training. A conference down in North Carolina called for 
information and John Little responded. His welcome among these keen young 
white collegians astonished him. He had not dreamed that they were ready to 
take up the subject so eagerly. His patience and tact and undoubted experience 
dispelled prejudice immediately and his wonderful Stereoptican Story of the work 
held his audience spell-bound. The Y. M. C. A. made out an intinerary for him 
covering the entire South and Southwest. He delivered twenty-nine lectures at 
the colleges and universities in one month's time, and five hundred dollars for 
expenses was raised before he began his tour. He thus addressed thousands of 
young men who wanted to know at once what they could do to help. 

In a brief space of time ten thousand college students were studying Weather- 
ford’s book and the service of a social expert on that one problem alone was de- 
manded. John Little was himself offered this important task but declined the 
call because he was giving his whole life to put the work in Louisville on a 
permanent foundation for the future. Meanwhile these young collegians returned 
to their home communities with a vision and a zeal to serve equal to the en- 
thusiasm of the early teachers and students at Hampton itself. White men though 
they were, they started Sunday-schools for the ignorant and neglected Negro chil- 
dren and taught them to read and write by night in the churches. In town after 
town and city after city the movement gathered momentum until it resembled 
the first great awakening of the Northern people themselves to educate and 
civilize and Christianize the newly-liberated Negro race. Churches and religious 
organizations that had passed this immense social problem by so long, now fell 
into line and the great work went forward. The South had awakened from 
her slumber at last. 

Throughout the entire city of Louisville William the Shepherd sought and 
ministered to the lost people of his own race. He became known everywhere and 
was soon loved by tens of thousands. The whole city was his parish and every 
needy, sick, or troubled soul of his race found him a father and a friend. He 
gave to scores of ministers a new conception of service, and the blessing of his 
labors and the sweet songs of his devoted wife were felt and heard in the 
darkest haunts of sin and shame. The call of this glorious mission reached 
Samuel Hardin’s soul like the sound of a trumpet and his future was now 
radiant with hope and promise. But death claimed him suddenly in the late 
fall of 1917 behind the walls when the Governor had prepared to release him 
that very Christmas. His story became one of the most beautiful incidents in the 
life of William the Shephérd and was prophetic of the future salvation of his 
race and people everywhere. 


184 


TEE DIGH Te BEARERS 





Joseph S. Cotter, Jr., (deceased). Son and namesake 
of his gifted father. Inheritor of the same poetic genius, 
which placed him in the first rank of Negro poets in 
America. Born in September, 1895, he became one of the 
most promising young men of this race in Louisville. He 
and a cultured sister, Florence, were the pride and joy of 
their parents. But on the threshold of manhood and 
womanhood tuberculosis developed and cut them down like 
the flowers of springtime. At the graveside of his sister, 
Florence, Joseph Jr. first realized the gift of song; and 
during the five fleeting years remaining he sang the great 
themes of human life and love with a pathos and tender- 
ness like Keats of old. His white physician said he never 
saw greater courage, patience and cheerfulness in youth 
facing death. He died in his father’s arms February 3, 
1919; and the father afterward wrote a noble and beautiful 
song in his memory, “I am Wondering.’ His little book 
of poems. “The Band of Gideon,’ and other works—all 
interwoven with a love story most beautiful to tell; a story 
that is deathless as his songs—have won for him an 
enviable and deserved memory among the singers of his 
race and time. 


CHAPRTERGXLE 





Hook of Remembrance 


T WAS in the month of August, 1925, in contemplation of the 
Goshen Church Centennial, and of my father’s sojourn of practically 
sixty-one years as a resident minister in the Old Goshen community, 
that he and I talked over the publication of the present volume. 
For quite a number of years previous | had taken down in story outline the 
chief episodes and pastoral experiences of my father’s long and useful ministry. 
He was a man of remarkably clear and accurate memory and could give a vivid 
account of events and characters long since lost to others. He was at first 
favorable only to a modest summary of his gospel preaching, with a few typicai 
sermons published therewith. But due consideration won his consent to the 
present narrative of his life interwoven with the impressive and inspiring Light 
Bearers of Presbyterian history, with some of whom he had been closely and 
intimately associated during the years he was in the making as a man of God. 
Every chapter was read to him and he selected most of the pictures he wanted 
reproduced as illustrations. In a word, the book was gathered togethere, set 
in type and arranged in accord with his entire good judgment and to his satis- 
faction. He was more than pleased and gratified to come in line after Gideon 
Blackburn, David Rice, Thomas Cleland, Lewis Green, Robert J. Breckinridge, 
Edward P. Humphrey, Stuart Robinson and other mighty men of Cod, a “‘Lesser 
Light’ of the Kingdom, but one that shineth more and more unto the perfect 
day. 

In July, 1863, Rev. J. H. Hopper presented my father with a copy of 
the ‘“‘Memoirs of Thomas Cleland’? compiled by Edward P. Humphrey and 
Thomas H. Cleland. This littie book was a classic account of the great pioneer 
Light Bearer. My father’s eyesight and hearing failed grievously the last two 
years of his life, and he experienced much delight the last few weeks before 
his final illness when I read to him the Memoirs of Thomas Cleland. It was 
Thomas H. Cleland who preached at the Perryville Church when my father was 
converted in boyhood. Dr. Cleland, Junior, was assisting the Perryville pastor, 
Rev. John Hancock, during the revival; and my father spoke especially of the 
impressive and apt illustrations of gospel truth used by Dr. Cleland in his 
sermons. [he personality of the minister, so radiant of the Master, had much 
to do with giving my father a hopeful and joyous anticipation of the Christian 
life. These facts were much on his mind in connection with the Memoirs of 
the Senior Dr. Cleland; and my father realized that the publication of his own 
story was a means of preserving and dispensing the very message he had so 
long and devotedly carried to others. 


THE CENTENNIAL OF GOSHEN CHURCH 


In spite of a dark and threatening day, people gathered from far and near 
to attend the centennial exercises of the Old Goshen Church on Sunday, Septem- 
ber 27, 1925. Neighboring churches joined in the services and in serving the 


186 THE BLIGH PABEARERS 


bountiful dinner at noon, which symbolized the hospitality of old times. There 
was hardly a family of old days in the community unrepresented by the younger 
generation; and quite a large number of former members came back for the 
first time in years. 

The morning music of old favorite hymns was led by Mr. Robert Veasey, 
student pianist and singer of the Louisville Seminary. The church officers 
conducted an old-fashioned roll call of the pastors, elders, deacons and members 
of long ago, rendered very impressive at its close by singing, ‘‘When The Roll 
is Called Up Yonder.’’ C. W. Rule read the pastors’ names, John Pierce the 
elders, Duke Collier the deacons and Virgil Snowden the old members. Allen 
Adams, grandson of an old elder of the same name, was on the program. Pierce 
Woolfolk read ‘‘The Burning and Rebuilding of Old Goshen Church in 1887” 
under Rev. E. D. Gregory; and Wesley King read a brief history of the various 
church organizations. John Bottorff, Jr., read the scripture. 





Rev. Thomas H. Cleland, D. D., son and biographer of 
his father, Rev. Thomas Cleland, D. D., with Rev. Edward 
PSHumphrey. IDF sD. Rev. John Rule was converted under 
the ministry of Rev. Thomas H. Cleland at Perryville, Ky., 
in early youth. 


Rev. C. R. Hemphill, D. D., of Louisville Seminary, conducted the devo- 
tional exercise before the sermon, and then read the reminiscent message of Rev. 
John Rule, the old pastor, who was in his eighty-ninth year and was too feeble 
to speak. Dr. Hemphill, who had been in Louisville Presbytery over forty years 
with Mr. Rule, read the message in a most gracious and beautiful way, and his 
address on what the Presbyterian system of doctrine, government and spiritual 
training has meant in modern history was a masterpiece of informal, refreshing 
and forceful characterization. 

Mrs. Julia Snowden read the reminiscent message of Mrs. Mary Rule, the 
last survivor of the old generation, with an added word of her own; and Miss 
Mary Collier read a closing poem, “‘At the Sundown of Life,’ for the pilgrims 


BROMP SERV ILUDE SO. SERVICE 187 


of the past. Rev. Chas. W. Welch, D. D., and his Fourth Avenue Church 
Choir conducted one of the choicest historic and musical programs in the after- 
noon ever given at Goshen; and this old church and community have had many 
such in past years of educational and religious life that first made it famous. 
Dr. Welch touched upon those influences, and upon Dr. Gideon Blackburn, 
founder of Goshen Church in 1825, with his own rare eloquence and feeling. 
The service was cut short by an approaching storm, and by an_ unavoidable 
delay in photographing the crowd by Louisville photographers. Rev. H. Pleune, 
of the Highland Church, Louisville, was present. Rev. John Rule pronounced 
the benediction. 


““AS THE LIFE OF A TREE” 


No doubt everyone of us, when we review our lives at the middle, or near 
the close, have serious and oft-recurring misgivings and regrets as to the course 
we pursued, the choice we made and the final results of our labor realized. 
My father was no exception to human nature in this particular. He had a deep- 
seated ideal of the long-time ministry of the Eastern States when he was a boy 
back in New Jersey. At the time of his graduation from Princeton in 1864, 
Dr. Green of the Seminary offered to see him favorably located in the East. 
It was a great opportunity and temptation; but my father was a devoted home 
man. He loved the old New Jersey ties where he was born; but his family were 
all in Kentucky and here he returned despite the storm of Civil War still raging. 
He often mentioned the fact that a minister of the gospel in the East was more 
regarded than in the West. Out here he had to take his chances with other 
professions, and the intense denominational rivalry was far more apt to discount 
a minister as such than back East, where the community churches. were older 
and more settled in tradition and respect for the pastoral office. 


It goes without saying that my father won his standing and held it out 
here in the West; but even down to the last months of his life he would 
occasionally indulge in that peculiarly pensive retrospect expressed by Whittier’s 
line, “It might have been. He left in my hands two or three years before his 
death a brief sketch of his life to be sent on to Princeton Seminary when he had 
passed away. It was almost as concise as the record on a tombstone. I felt 
that it was too modest and brief. The original outline was in one of his note 
books. It contains some facts that are worthy of preservation. But the main 
point is that he closed this original sketch with the termination of his regular 
pastorate at the old home church. That was the tragedy to him. He was not 
a man to move about after he had once settled his abode. Opportunities for 
favorable locations were not plentiful in Kentucky forty odd years ago, even 


9? 


to Presbyterian ministers. He was a peculiarly reserved and modest man when 
it came to advancing himself. He had been offered the pastorate of the New 
Providence Church on one occasion while he was. still happily located at Goshen. 
And at the time of his retirement from the Goshen Church he was capable of 
rendering the best service of his life as a pastor or teacher. But he did not 
wish to move unless he could do justice to the education of his children and be 
assured of a living wage for his work. Yet he had a horror of being considered 


mercenary in his calling. 


188 THe OIG Se BEARERS 


It was a source of infinite pain to him to leave his pastoral study and 
depend upon the income of our little farm for subsistence. But he was a 
thorough and painstaking man and he was the best farmer in the entire com- 
munity. He gradually became reconciled to these ‘earthly, or wordly, avocations”’ 
by giving his time and labor without recompense to the Home Mission cause in 
the field which he himself discovered and so devotedly cultivated. Rev. A. A. 
Higgins truly said at his funeral that he was not only a man of faith, but that 
he was faithful unto death in the service of his Lord, for the good of the 
smaller groups of Home Mission Churches. Dr. Higgins said, furthermore, that 





REV. EDWARD O. GUERRANT 


The Old First Presbyterian Church, Louisville, was pastored one hundred 
years ago by Dr. Gideon Blackburn, when he founded the church at Goshen. 
Rev. Edward O. Guerrant was called to the pulpit of this same church in 
January, 1879, and after a great revival awakening in the congregation was 
chosen Home Mission Evangielist of the Synod of Kentucky, in November, 
1881. .This movement was in answer to the dying prayer of Rev. Stuart 
Robinson, D. D., the same year, who had himself honed to lead it as Synodical 
Evangelist; but Dr. Guerrant bore the mantle of Elijah when Dr. Robinson 
was called home to God; and the generous gifts of Bennett H. Young, R. S. 
Veech and A. J. Alexander jassured ‘the permanence of the work. Rev. John 
Rule became a Home Missionary in this same movement and his West Goshen 
work fifteen years later grew into another great Evangelical awakening in 
Louisville Presbytery. 


he was singularly free from the ambition possessed by so many ministers to 
occupy the larger city pulpits. Not that he was conscious of any inability to 
measure up to the demands of such pulpits, for he often filled them with 
impressiveness and satisfaction. But here was a scholar and teacher and natural 
scientist with an unusal mind and executive capacity in everything he undertook, 
who settled down and served a wide-spread rural population for sixty-one years. 
In youth a finished mechanic and worker in wood, a builder and cultivator, near 
to nature and close to the soil, he was alive and virile to the very end of his 
days. His cheeks were ruddy and his blood was pure and red and clean. He 
was sincere to his heart’s core. He mastered every subject and problem that 
came before him. He was an investigator and student of the human anatomy and 
of disease as long as his eyesight lasted; and he never lost that keen, incisive, 
Sane interpretation of spiritual truth characteristic of him always as an oracle 
of God. So deeply did he identify himself with his section of country and its 
people that it is almost impossible to contemplate his absence now. He was 


PROMP SER Vil ODE LO SSERVIGE 


always practical, logical, persistent. 


forward-looking, and went right on; 
unspiritual tendencies and unhallowed influences abroad today. 
first year we addressed to him this Birthday Greeting, which is just as truly 


Dr. Higgins said at his funeral that amid 
ali the changing times and periods of: his life of nearly ninety years he was 
though he did grieve deeply over the 
In his eighty- 


typical of his character as any symbol it were possible to employ: 


“olsy i Malsmg eb le; (Ole vee Iu dels, 


, 


“Servant of God, well done.’ 
Today at eighty-one 

Life’s full, well-rounded sun 
Goes down as it begun. 
Thy soul was always young, 
And Truth was on thy tongue: 
A noble oak among 


Life’s trees that storms have wrung. 


A pilgrim of the earth 

Not over-moved by mirth, 
But sturdy, brave and strong; 
A psalm thy daily song. 
Thy heart is true to home; 


A patriarch of old 

Who scorned the lure of Gold, 
And to his faith will hold 
oiler iames=lastiehourtis told: 
Thy children honor thee, 
And round thy kindly knee 
Would gather and agree 

To brothers ever be. 


Thou and thy brothers stood 
Like monarchs of the wood 

For all that brothers should: 
And life was sweet and good. 
So in the Life Beyond 


Unbroken be the bond. 
Love’s Resurrection wand 
Shall wake, so young and fond. 


Too wedded there to roam, 
Yet looking toward the dome 
Or Godsand lite to come: 


The gentlest of them all, 

Who answered Death's sad call 
Like them who bravely fall 
To break earth’s tyrant thrall; 
And happily ye twain, 
Together once again, 

Shall lift Love’s tender strain 
Where Life shall never wane. 


THE DARK MOTHER COMES 


My father failed very perceptibly the last year of his life, though we will 
always believe that had be relaxed somewhat from the very simple and austere 
diet and daily routine which he followed just as religiously as he did his spiritual 
devotions, he might have persisted into the nineties. He had never been seriouslv 
ill, and never in bed for any time worth mentioning. He believed in medical 
science and consulted physicians when necessary; but he always ‘‘weathered”’ a 
cold with the use of a little quinine and some application to his chest at night. 
He succeeded every winter until this last one. Indications of a sluggish and 
urresisting constitutional status gave warning several times that the grand old 
ship of his physical man could hardly weather another serious gale. The 
approaches of bronchial pneumonia were very subtle, engaging his strength and 


will-power gradually, with increasing discomfort and discomfiture. He had 


190 TOSS. MEME SME sioiere Wea et ics 


always hoped and expected to pass away quickly without a struggle. But for 
the Warrior of God, the Soldier of the Cross, there seemed to be no such passage 
to the Elysium of the Blessed. In his weakness and waiting he repeated over 
and over the beautiful stanzas of old, favorite hymns and put his case in the 
hands of the Great Pilot and Captain of his soul. 

We can never forget the last time he led the family devotions before he 
took to his bed. Assisted by his son, Clarence, he stood by the mantle and 
lifted up a feeble voice in prayer with the remark that as long as he was able 
he would not forget his God. After that, in the drowsiness and dream of his 
illness he reminded one deeply of a voyager just setting forth on the Sea of 
Death, looking back to the familiar shores of the Homeland here, perplexed and 
anxious as to the intervening perils and pains to be encountered. What we 
dreaded most was that he might feel lonely and alone, humanly speaking. We 
would go in and speak to him and take him by the hand, and for the moment 
he would rouse up and greet us faintly, then lapse into slumber. More than 
once he seemed sensible of the presence of a beloved brother who had long since 
passed over the River; and we finally had to realize that he was beyond mortal 
relief. 

Yet it was on Thanksgiving Day, 1925, about 4:15. p. m. that bevrel 
asleep in Jesus as quietly as an infant going to rest. Our mother was sitting 
at his bedside and had been holding his hand in her own, when in a moment 
of time the venerable servant of God slipped down into the Great Silence. The 
Dark Mother, Death, is so noiseless and gentle, and his passing was peaceful and 
serene. It was patriarchal, like that of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob. He had 
roused up a week or ten days before and asked us if it were not well to let 
his friends know his condition. An item in the papers brought wide-spread 
interest and sympathy to him, which was a great comfort. And in the final 
services his own wishes were so fully carried out that our mother remarked 
several times how much she wished he might be aware of all that was going 
on. It would have been such a recompense for all the battles and struggles 
and encounters of his militant, heroic Christian life. Pilgrim’s Progress was the 
last favorite book which he read with own eyes; and Dr. Higgins said at his 
funeral service that his death was a release, a victory, a triumph. His long-time 
friend and fellow-Presbyter, Rev. H. Y. Davis, also assisted in the services. His 
burial was at the Brownsboro Cemetery, in Oldham County, Kentucky, and the 
funeral was held on Sunday morning, from the old home church where he had 
participated in the centennial exercises a few months before. Dr. Higgins con- 
ducted an infinitely tender service at the home for our mother, who was not able 
to go to the church. Sunday evening when we assembled about the fireside at 
heme, our elder brother, Clarence, took father’s place at the family altar; and 
we read the following memorial stanzas: 


FROM SERVITUDE TO SERVICE 191 


Say not that he is dead, 

Though lowly lies his head; 

And hearts, uncomforted, 

Shrink back with nameless dread. 
Say not that he is gone, 
Though from our sight withdrawn, 
His spirit upward, on, 

Hath passed into God's Dawn. 


Say not he is no more, 

Though from that Unseen Shore 
No answering signs restore 
Faith in what lies before. 

Say not that.he is dust, 

Though like a crumbling crust, 
Life endeth as it must, 

Testing our utmost trust. 


Wrapped in the mystic calm 

Of slumber and of psalm, 

Death came like Gilead’s Balm, 
And Faith’s triumphant palm. 
Life’s seasons, one by one, 
Beneath a favoring sun, 

Had ripened rich and run; 

And now God’s will was done. 


The pang of parting pains; 
But memory sweet remains. 
The losses and the gains 

Are summed in tender strains. 
Then let the garb of grief 
Lift with a glad relief; 

For Life’s full ripened sheaf 
Was cut by Heaven’s Chief. 


Rugged, heroic here; 

A stranger unto Fear, 

When Mother Death drew near 
"Twas like a Friend most dear. 
Then let the wintry snows 
Cover his deep repose 

Till Spring Eternal glows 
With Lilies and the Rose. 


Page 
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Glovers JO, BY) Foote feared eeepe Pialela Ones tent. Se oleate ih ce te, ek eae nana 63-65 
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AACR SOTBAATIONS WE. ACER ck cin elt ee eae a lh eu ie ans ah oe ee he a ee ae areas ese wt Bar 11-12 
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Kuykendall sMortresss Ve eisccs, an ccyehecenare Boo te ne cee rater ce as yore Me as 46 
TAT l6,. (FRE CT OR TY <3 els Oat oes caked Barta ae emcee Ge Sake ec hee ae aac ooh Re 9. 27 T2183 
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MeGown, Rev. B. He veces ete cect e cage es ce Winln th eames en p alee eal 15, 92-98 
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IW EO TLS WELD Teas Aaa, bie aie tdre ze. ones aie ater eit > iar cr ee ne eee a ed re 54-56, 111-114 
Salem, Old Presbytery soe solic Bic Sloe ee ee ee ae he ee oe 39-49 


Pope, sd Curva ney cesta cio a is oi ee ha nd dae ated | Cree een 8 


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SURE ODOR IRC Ae RIe! AYValae ls ASE | oo see enn opm eee Me Mine, Shar etn ar ee eB Boy la iene 8 ion gh 173-183 
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BIRO ClCUMmmee uC Veemmre).C) 11s) beeen renner ea ee Cane eee eE Dae rm Sees se ed ea ee oe | 139-140 
WOKEN AGES: gI Rm DSUNeNAUeh Maes nes Gad ae pan h Cube ere ik Mier: mite rie re ean at ee eH UES Prag dae 265-629 
ANAC as ORL Lommel YC) ah reli te Mane seMets pears Bye, Rupes eset nae Re ESEN ST aph one, Y k et ee  Gleanine Aye eM ik, A= 
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Rr ELEM (oat occa my ae a) Be ee te eas oo Rud OR we Keke wR 89 90 


Washburn, Hlihu B. 


' 


Che Bouks and Life Allork 
5 — ~~ = 


. 





PUGIENEV a RWIS: 





“THES SUBMERGED Ri roG lie 


A young school teacher heroine of the River Front in Louisville, who 
carried out in her house to house visitation and early Red Cross relief work 
among the children of the poor the spirit and mission of ‘“‘Aunt Martha’ Eubank, 
the first great Masonic Mother of the city. This young girl lived and died 
a martyr to the poor and ignorant, the suffering and afflicted all over the 
flooded area of ‘““The Point’? and ‘‘Towhead Island.’’ The young poet first 
met her in ‘““The Old Country Church’’ of his home neighborhood, where she 
was recuperating from the stress and strain of her noble work. He had returned 
from Old Centre College to the home farm broken in health and hope and spirit. 
yet compelled by bitter need to grapple with the problem of making a living. 
She was a working girl heroine of the “Jane Eyre’ type, and through her eyes 
of great and loving vision for humanity he saw the world of labor and service 
and brotherhood. He told her story in ‘‘The Shrine of Love,’’ which won im- 
mediate recognition in this country and England. 





“APPLE BOWER” 


The little cottage home sung in the poet’s dream as ‘‘The House of Love.”’ 
Here he eventually brought the bride who incarnated his vision and made his hope 
of happy mating real and true. She was a girl of the open country, vigorous 
and beautiful, yet sensitive and tender to human need and suffering, a veritable 
Louisa May Alcott, her ideal, in vision and social efficiency as a teacher and home- 
maker. She incarnated the region and people of “‘Old Kentucky Home,” near 
which she was born; and there was in her love the romance and lullaby and con- 
solation of Foster’s immortal songs. Joy and gladness intermingled with the un- 
dertone of world sorrow and human sympathy that had characterized the young 
poet’s work hitherto; and this new book of heart songs and sonnets won a per- 


manent place in American poetry. 





EO ESPARAIDTS Ee @aey.©)te sete 


The golden land of song and story, where Youth and Fraternity walk hand 
in hand. The mystic realm where the Boy and Girl Scouts, the Social Crusaders 
and other young- dreamers are made ready by ritual, drama, and pageant imper- 
sonation to assume the dignity and glory, the vows and visions of manhood and 
womanhood as they enter with heroic hearts and high enthusiasm the life-long 
struggle of the world. ‘This is the native atmosphere of the poet and his wrfe— 
who met, romanced, and were mated in ‘“The Paradise of Youth.” Their little 
daughter, Mary Lily, has never known any other world of play and happiness; 
and the spiritual and poetic story of this world is told in “An Old Country 
Church,”’ ‘‘The Social Crusaders’’ and ‘‘The Cross of Honor,’’ rare and beauti- 
ful booklets, which may be had from the publishers at fifty cents each. ‘The 
Cross of Honor’ is the only complete poetic pageant of the Red Cross ever 
written or published. The author’s wife was the inspiration and the heroine 
of it, and in 1918 at the Centennial of Rob Morris, Masonic Poet-Laureate, the 
chief characters were impersonated and presented in a notable and impressive way 
under her personal direction. 





“THE CAT-O’-NINE-TAILS” 


Pom OerRInON SOUTH. JEFFERSONVILLE, INDIANA 
Sposa ol eee RISON, .ARANKPOR Da KENTUCKY 
Phobia Ce DE ADSSOULS™ 


KNOWN TO ALL PRISONERS AS 
Bolt) yO eOE Aloe OWL Ey 


Story of the “Old Prison South’ at Jeffersonville, Indiana, and the Old 
Kentucky Penitentiary at Frankfort. From ‘‘The Paradise of Youth,’’ where 
Love and Hope and Joy made every heart glad; where the voices of birds and 
brooks and children filled the air with song and laughter, the poet passed into 
prison walls where youth was withered and dead. There Love and Hope and 
Joy were strangers; and there the only laughter and song were cold and mocking 
and vile beyond description. Nearly ten years (from 1914 to 1923) were spent 
in the service of these lost souls and broken lives as Chaplain and Teacher; and 
out of these great experiences grew a book, ‘‘The City of Dead Souls,’’ which 
told the story and changed the spirit of men toward the lost denizens of ‘‘The 
Place of Punishment.’’ Here you will find the full history of a hundred years 
of horror, cruelty and crime. The author penetrated into the deepest and darkest 
secrets of these old ‘“‘Hells Above Ground,” as John Wesley called all such places. 
The ‘‘Keeper of Souls,’’ as the young Chaplain was designated, led men forth to 
light and liberty in the name of Jesus Christ. The Salvation Army made this 
a standard prison story, and it was circulated throughout the English-speaking 
world. : 





THE LITTLE ;PRESBYTERIAN ‘CHURCH, “LAGRANGE. KER ye 
WHERE ROB MORRIS WORSHIPPED 


“PIONEERING IN MASONRY” 


The Life and Time of Rob Morris, Masonic Poet-Laureate, together with 
the story of Clara Barton and the Eastern Star. 


The theme of Human Brotherhood, like that of Human Liberty, was always 
a passion with the author. Out of the pain and peril of the great panic of the 
nineties he emerged convinced that Fraternity, next to the spiritual repentance 
and faith of the Gospel itself, was the one great redeeming force of the nation 
and the world. He was commissioned and ordained by the Presbyterian Church, 
U. S. A., to preach and teach the Gospel of Divine Love and Human Brother- 
hood to the working people. His experiences with the toiling masses and the 
Labor Movement of America had been as deep and revealing as his ten years with- 
in prison walls; and he carried through the years the tragic consciousness of what 
Faith and Fraternity must do for the toiling masses if the dream and hope of 
man for Liberty and Brotherhood were ever to be realized. His father was the 
pastor of Rob Morris, and a childhood friendship with the great Masonic Laure- 
ate eventually led the author into Free Masonry. He also inevitably became the 
biographer of Dr. Morris; and his work with Youth and Fraternity led him to 
discover the untold story of Clara Barton and the Eastern Star. The book re- 
sulting has been called one of the most important of recent Masonic publications. 
It is the Centennial History of Fraternity in America: and its pages are rich and 
abounding in the fruits of research and experience in the supreme task of teach- 
ing men to love and serve one another. 





Re Nea Meo  hiesoMild Da) PAS] OR} OF ABRAHAM - LINCOEN 
AaseoP RIN GEILE) slick eel 8505 1 Or31.856 


“FORERUNNERS OF LINCOLN” 


The One Hundred Year History of the great pioneer Presbyterian preachers 
and educators and emancipators, who cleared the way and lifted the Cross of 
Light and Liberty in the wilds of Kentucky and the forest of Indiana while 
Lincoln was yet a youth. The author was himself for years a Circuit Rider and 
Home Missionary over the classic ground of ““The Hoosier School Master.”’ He 
enjoyed a personal friendship with Edward Eggleston, who was his ideal minister 
and romancer from earliest youth, and the great Hoosier story-writer gave his 
dying benediction and unfinished tasks to the young poet-preacher. He served as 
pastor where John M. Dickey, Lyman and Henry Ward Beecher, and many other 
great Liberators had labored and suffered and triumphed long ago; and slowly 
through a twenty-year ministry he gathered and matured the priceless material for 
this epochal book of the pioneer heroes of the faith. A very close and inspiring 
friendship with Rev. J. R. Barnard, D. D., of Madison, Indiana, father of the 
famous sculptor and Lincoln portrayer, George Grey Barnard, gave the author 
rare opportunity to put the artist theme and touch in his pages. It climaxes in 


, 


a poetic pageant called ‘““The New Covenanters,’’ which is akin to the soul-story 
of the great masterpieces of George Grey Barnard in “‘The Broken Law,’’ ‘‘The 
Burden of Life,’’ ‘‘I Feel Two Natures Struggling Within Me,’’ “‘Fraternity,”’ 
“The Rose Maiden,’’ and “‘Lincoln.’’ The book is- published as a companion 


volume to “The Light Bearers.”’ 


= ihiesahrine olelsove: arr 
 LhesHousetotslove 8 


“An Old Country Church’ .... 


“The Social Crusaders” .. 
“The Cross of Honor” .. 


The «City vote Deadssoulsse. .» 


‘*Pioneerin®?, In Masonry” .... 
Yi 


“The Light Bearers” .. 


‘“Forerunners of Lincoln” . 


BRANDT-CONNORS & FOWLER 
PUBLISHERS 


a 


541 South Second Street 


LOUISVILLE 


KENTUCKY 


Re aes 
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Pee DUG 
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The illustrations for this book were made from rare and historic photo- 


Braphs and daguerreotypes by The Tinsley-Clingman Company of Louisville. 





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